


Broken Bones, Mended Hearts

by andachippedcup



Series: andachippedcup's Olicity Summer Sizzle Fics [7]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Blind Character, Brain Surgery, Car Accidents, F/M, Feels, Happy Ending, Healing, Hospitals, Medical, Olicity Summer Sizzle, Paralysis, Physical Therapy, Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2020-07-28 03:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 90,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andachippedcup/pseuds/andachippedcup
Summary: After a car crash leaves Oliver with a traumatic brain injury and unable to see, he finds himself hospitalized in a semi-private room. Though he can't see her, he takes comfort in speaking to his neighbor on the other side of the curtain: Felicity, recently hospitalized for a fractured neck, leaving her in traction and unable to move. Together, they help each other heal.[Olicity Summer Sizzle - Neighbors AU]





	1. Chapter 1

He can’t remember most of it. 

His memory is a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. He remembers the car cruising through the busy city streets. He remembers the booming of his father’s laugh, like a foghorn, clear and loud. He remembers a moment of pristine silence, right at the moment that divides everything into the ‘before’ and the ‘after’. Before the silence, there was humor and playful teasing as father and son prepared to cut loose on their yacht trip. After the silence comes the jarring impact from the collision that becomes Oliver’s great crucible. Everything after that singular moment of silence is made of nightmares. 

The impact changes everything. The impact is where his memory becomes a pane of shattered glass. Everything is distorted and broken. He remembers squealing tires. Metal crunching on metal. Shattering glass. And the screams. God, how he hates the memory of the screams. And then, there’s a black hole where memories should be and instead, there is only a void. He doesn’t know how long he lost consciousness, doesn’t even remember coming to after passing out. He just remembers the gaping space where memories should be but instead, there is nothing. 

He remembers flashes of blue and red. Wailing. Metallic and coppery tastes. And through it all, _ pain._ But most of all, Oliver remembers the sight of his father in the driver's seat, his face awash in blood, his unseeing eyes staring blankly back at Oliver.

\-----

He hears them before he sees them. The words are hard to make out; the sounds shift and syllables change. The voices are distorted and echo from all around him. He can’t make sense of space or time. Where is he? What’s happened? 

He’s lost in a void, weightless. 

The voices slowly begin to take shape, the sounds begin to form words. It takes what seems like a long while, but he can’t be sure, before he’s able to actually process the conversations happening around him. With processing, however, does not come understanding. 

_ “He is the son of the man who founded your new hospital wing for crying out loud! Get him a private room!” _

He knows that voice. Or he thinks he does. 

_ “We’re trying, Mrs. Queen. But there aren’t any rooms available. As soon as one opens up, rest assured we will do whatever is necessary to have your son relocated.” _

_ “I want to speak to your Attending physician. Mark my words, the Board _ ** _will_ ** _ hear about this!” _

His mother is arguing. About him. about his room. He’s… he’s in the _ hospital? _ When did that happen? _ How _did that happen? His mind is still a jumbled mess, his memories virtually nonexistent, and his body is numb. 

“M’fine.” His voice is a harsh rasp, unfamiliar to his ears. The words slur and blend together as he speaks them. And though his eyes feel as though they weigh two tons, he can sense the sudden shift as everyone scrambles to respond to him now that they know he’s conscious.

“Oliver!” 

“Ollie!” 

Two voices. Both familiar. His mother and… Thea. _ Thea_! His sister. 

“Mister Queen, can you open your eyes for me?” This voice is not familiar, nor are the hands that he can distantly feel against his face, poking and prodding. This makes him wince - apparently his face is tender. He attempts to move his eyes but makes a new discovery: his eyelids feel like there are bricks weighing them down. Still, he grudgingly tries to open his eyes to appease the voice.

The light overhead is blinding. He’s overwhelmed by it and he’s barely opened his eyes a sliver. Groaning, he opens his eyes further and finds a blurred sea of light and darker blurred shapes. Faces? They’re hard to make out. And everything is cast in a reddish tint. 

“Why’s...everything red?”

There’s a soft mutter in response to his words and then a bright light is shining directly into his eye. _ Ouch _. 

“Follow my finger please, Mister Queen.” 

A blur swings in front of his eyes and he tries to follow it, though it’s difficult to focus on. The light is shined in his eyes once more, along with something else. He can’t decipher any of it; his sight is total crap. 

“Oliver, can you describe what you can see for me?” 

“Nothing.” He answers back with difficulty, his voice low and strained. “Just light… shapes and shadows. Everything’s blurry and...red and there’s… things moving.” 

“Floaters.” The unknown voice murmurs to herself. “Okay, Oliver so here’s what’s happened. You were in a car accident. You experienced a head injury and it looks like the trauma from that has caused something known as Terson syndrome. Basically, the trauma damaged your eye in such a way that blood has now hemorrhaged inside of it That’s why you can’t see well and things look reddish to you. The good news is, it can be surgically corrected. The bad news is, surgery for you will have to wait a little while. You had surgery when you first came in here, to fix bleeding in your brain. We need to give your body time to recover from that before we attempt to fix the bleeding in your eye. And we’ll need to assess your brain function. I won’t lie to you, Oliver, you are going to struggle - the trauma to your head has done damage and we aren’t sure yet just how much. It’s going to take time for you to be able to think, speak, and move normally.”

Even in his less than fit state, Oliver can still catch the unspoken _ ‘if you ever recover fully’ _ that dangles at the end of her sentence. He could have brain damage. _ Great _

“I had brain surgery?” The words are hard to spit out and he’s struggling to focus on what she’s saying. His eyes keep trying to follow the squiggles in his field of vision but they move with him and he can never seem to focus on them correctly. They remain permanently ahead of him, dancing across everything he sees. 

“Yes. It went well but we will need to monitor your brain and let it have time to heal before we can think about putting you under anesthesia. Oliver, you also broke your left arm. You have substantial crush injuries to both legs, and you likely have broken ribs, in addition to the trauma to your head. As the anesthesia continues to wear off, you’re going to feel pain. And I won’t lie to you, it’s probably going to be a lot. But my name is Doctor Snow, and I am going to work with you to keep you as comfortable as we can, alright?” 

He is lost in his head, unable to keep focus on her. His mind is scrambled and he is still completely distracted by his inability to see more than a blurred version of his surroundings. Nodding his head is out of the question so instead he just hums a sound of agreement.

“What about a hospital transfer? If you don’t have room for my son to heal in private, we’ll take him somewhere else.” His mother’s voice. Pinched. Stressed. And far more pitchy than he’s used to - she’s emotional, which is unusual for her to show at all in public.

“It’s fine.” He mumbles, trying to reassure her. “I don’t care.” It’s a labor to get the words out. His tongue feels huge and leaden, his lips feel dry and swollen. Nothing feels right. 

“Oliver, you have a long road ahead of you and you and this family need privacy at a time like this.” She argues. He wants to shake his head but this too, is beyond him. Instead, he frowns with concentration as he tries to lick his lips and then he speaks. 

“No...moving. Staying here.” 

This effectively ends the discussion. He feels warm hands enclose upon one of his own and then, quietly, he hears Thea’s voice. 

“Get some rest. I love you, Ollie.” 

He flexes the muscles in his face in what he hopes looks like a smile.

“Speedy.” He sighs and then, with the comfort of knowing they are there watching over him, Oliver melts into the sleep that looms over him so temptingly, escaping the rising tide of pain as his body slowly comes back to its senses. 

\----- 

Felicity remembers everything about her accident right up until getting to the hospital. Felicity remembers the impact that struck her car on the passenger side and made her head whip around as her car spun from the collision. She even remembers watching the car (r_ed, with a broken rear tail light_) speed off after it struck her. It’s once she reaches the hospital that everything suddenly goes fuzzy and then completely blank. She remembers getting offloaded from the ambulance, remembers the discomfort of the neck brace and the radiating pain in her neck. She even vaguely recalls being moved from the backboard and onto the hospital gurney. But after being seen by the emergency room doctors, she doesn’t have a clue what happened to her from then until now, when she wakes up and blinks at the off white ceiling tiles. 

Her initial instinct is to move but as she comes to her senses, she realizes there is a voice talking to her. 

“Miss Smoak? Can you hear me, Miss Smoak?” 

Her heart is racing. She hears steady beeping and clicking and a whole host of unfamiliar noises in addition to this very unfamiliar voice. Her eyes sweep her field of vision and land on a pretty young woman who is standing over her in what appears to be a white lab coat. 

“Miss Smoak, if you can hear me, please, don’t move your head, just say ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” She asks again and Felicity swallows a few times.

“Yes.” 

“Good. That’s very good. Miss Smoak, my name is Doctor Snow. I need you to try not to move, alright? You’re in the hospital, at Starling General. You were in an accident and you fractured your neck vertebrae. We had to sedate you and put you in traction. What that means is that right now, your body is braced with pins and weights to try and bring your spine back into place.”

Well, that explains why she feels so stiff and incapable of movement. She’s playing the role of human weight bench. The mental image of metal plates and weights hanging off of her to fix her is moderately terrifying. 

“We want to try and stabilize your spine without surgery. In order for that to work it is extremely important that, no matter what, you do not move. Any movement of your cervical vertebrae could lead to a break and permanent paralysis to everything below your neck. We are going to do everything we can to prevent any paralysis from happening. But for now, you cannot move. Do you understand?” 

Felicity’s natural reaction is to bob her head in a nod but instead she takes a small, shuddering inhale. This is… this is _ a lot _. And she has so many questions. But for now, she just wants to be alone with her thoughts to try and process. 

“I-I understand.” She exhales unsteadily and Doctor Snow nods. 

“Good. Now, I’ve put the call nurse remote in your hand. If you need anything, press it and myself or one of the other staff members will be in to check on you straight away. You’ve got a team of people here rooting for you.” 

As Felicity watches, Doctor Snow hesitates for a moment and glances at something across the way, then speaks again in a hushed voice.

“I should also inform you that, we are presently out of private rooms. So, you have a neighbor on the other side of the curtain. It’s very important - to both of your healing - that you two do not disturb each other so please, try not to bother each other. For both your sakes.” 

“Doctor Snow, I can’t move. I don’t exactly think I’m going to be throwing a wild party that disrupts the neighbors.” Felicity responds back, her voice a weary sigh. “I-Is it normal to have a hard time breathing, with a… a broken neck?” 

_ A broken neck._ The words are haunting. She could be paralyzed - _ paralyzed! _ This is a nightmare. Her heart begins to race and with it, the beeping beside her begins to increase in tempo. Great, her heart monitor is a little nark. Sure enough, Doctor Snow looks towards the source of the beeping, then back to Felicity.

“Yes, it is. You broke one of the cervical vertebrae high up on your neck. We’ve been having to closely monitor your body functions - like your respiration rate - as a result. The more relaxed you can keep yourself, the easier your breathing will be. But it will probably remain difficult as we work you through this.”

“O-Okay.” She stammers, trying to put on a brave face but feeling anything _ but _brave. This is terrifying. She’s awoken to a hellish scenario. She can’t move. She’s as good as alone. And now it’s a gamble if she’ll ever even walk again. 

“I know this is a lot. We’ll help you through it. I’ll be back to check on you later. For now, rest. And remember, do _ not _move.” 

\-----

His neighbor has, near as he can tell, been sedated for the entire time he’s been in the room. When they finally wake her up from the sedative, he overhears the conversation between the doctor and the woman - a ‘Miss Smoke’ - and as messed up as his predicament is, hers sounds pretty bad too. At least Oliver can move _ some _. This girl? She’s being weighed down with a whole head and upper body piece to keep her spine in place and if she moves, she might never walk again.

Talk about an unthinkable situation. 

It’s some time later, after the doctor has left when he hears the sniffling. It’s her, he realizes, her breaking down in the face of her daunting predicament. He can hear her sniffling morph into crying. And while it’s mostly quiet, he can also hear the quavering gasps of air she’s taking between sobs. Though his vision is too poor to tell much, he tries to look across the room at her but finds only a wall of blue gray light. _ Oh. _ They’ve drawn the curtain between them, separating them into their own little mini rooms. Because of the curtain and his vision impairment, he can’t be sure if her crying is shaking her body or not but he imagines it has to be, even if only slightly. Crying is often a full body experience, after all. And that’s precisely the kind of subtle movement she does _ not _need right now. 

The doctor’s words replay in his ears.

_ Any movement of your cervical vertebrae could lead to permanent paralysis to everything below your neck. _

Her tears, though justified, are quite literally endangering her hopes of ever walking again. For a moment, his hand hovers over (what he thinks is) the ‘Call Nurse’ button but then he thinks better of it. She doesn’t need more medical personnel talking at her - not even their well intentioned if somewhat obtuse nurse, Barry. What she needs - what he needs too, though he won’t admit it - is human connection. Someone to empathize with the crappy hand that life has dealt her. Who better to empathize with the potentially paralyzed girl than the potentially brain damaged, potentially blind guy? 

Besides, he can’t very well sit by and let her unintentionally paralyze herself. So, Oliver does something unthinkable - he strikes up a conversation with the stranger across the way. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, unsure where or how to begin, “-if we’re going to be neighbors... I-I should introduce myself... I’m Oliver.” It requires a great deal of focus to say the words but he does it passably well, he thinks. And only a little slowly. 

The crying slows and the breathing grows quieter, more even. He can hear her sniffing as she steadies herself and then her voice rings out through the relative silence. 

“Felicity.” 

“Well Felicity...Nice to meet you. Are you a snorer? ...Please don’t be a snorer. I don’t think my head can...stand much more trauma.” He speaks in stops and starts and he struggles to put the words together but he does it. For her benefit as much as his. He needs to prove that he can speak, can think, that there’s hope of him someday doing both as easily as he did before. 

There’s a soft sound of her exhaling once, a breathy little noise that sounds as if he’s taken her by surprise. _ Good _. All the better to distract her. 

“You know, I honestly don't know. I don’t think I am? Are you? Because as you may have noticed, trying to roll you onto your side to stop you from snoring _ may _be something of a challenge for me.” 

“I only pretend to snore.... when I want to annoy my sister on... family vacations. So you’re safe... unless she drops by.” 

“Good to know.” He can no longer hear her breathing; he assumes she’s gotten her emotions back in hand and with them, her breathing. That’s good. No more subtle jostling of her spine. From the sounds of it, she doesn’t need her recovery to be any more complicated than it already is. 

“So Felicity, what...brought you here today?” 

“Oh well I heard that the cafeteria cook makes a mean Jell-o cup and I had to see for myself.” She shoots back right away; she’s sharp as a whip and it takes him off guard. Before he realizes it, he’s laughing. Actually laughing. For the first time since…

“You know...I’ve heard that too? I couldn’t get in though… Reservations were booked solid when I tried.” 

“What can I say? It pays to know me.” She jokes and he can hear the smile in her voice. He just wishes he could _ see it _too. 

“I’ll remember that,” he smirks, shaking his head. “See, I came here... for the killer views.”

“Stained ceiling tiles _ are _all the rage this year.” She confirms and instinctively, his eyes lift towards the ceiling, but all he can make out is a blurry gray-white sea. If there are stains (which he doesn’t doubt), then his busted eyeballs can’t make them out. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” He remarks wistfully, his eyes falling shut even as he says the words. She waits a beat and then he hears her voice, creeping towards him like a nervous animal, as if the very words make her uneasy. 

“I… I was in an accident. A car crash.” She falls silent and he can envision the silent struggle she is waging as she fights to control her emotions. There’s the soft sound of swallowing and then a slow inhale of breath from her side of the room. “My neck is broken. So they’ve got me in this weird contraption to try and hold my spine in place to heal. If it doesn’t work, they’d have to do surgery if I want to stand any chance of walking again.” She explains and her voice bounces nervously, high pitch to low as she fights not to cry. 

It takes him a long, labored minute to respond - he can’t come up with the word that he wants to use at first. The words elude him, slipping through his fingertips. Finally though, he remembers.

“We’re twins.” Two things with a shared _ something _ . That’s the word he was looking for, alright. Both seriously injured in car accidents. Neighbors in the womb of this hospital hell. “I was… in a crash too.” He explains, thankful for her patience as he tries to find words. “Head injury… My brain was bleeding. In my eyes too.” He’s explaining this horribly. Why is this so _ fucking _ difficult to find and say the words? “I can’t really see ... _ anything _.” The admission hurts more than he thought it would. “My legs and arm are hurt too but… My head is bad… Talking is hard.” He confesses, surprised at this raw fit of honesty. 

Her voice when she responds to him is like a warm hug and he’s surprised by how much comfort he takes in the sound of it. 

“You don’t have to talk to me, if it’s hard. I don’t want to bother you.” 

Oh yes. He remembers the Doctor’s warning not to bother each other. Oliver doesn’t care though. Honestly, he finds it easier to talk to her than to sit in silence, dwelling on the possibly permanent damage to his brain. And besides, he’s finding it easier to speak the more he focuses on it with her. 

“You aren’t bothering me… This… it helps.” He answers back thoughtfully a moment later. Her voice is like a hug. He wonders what an _ actual _hug from her would be like. “Would you… keep talking?” 

There’s a soft sound, so unexpected it catches him off guard. She _ laughs _. The sound is incredible; gentle and sweet and so genuine. It actually takes his breath away to hear something so lovely in a place so cold and sterile. 

“I’m a nervous talker and I’m very nervous right now. So yeah, I can keep talking as long as you like, Oliver. Just tell me when to stop.” 

Well this should be easy. He doesn’t intend on stopping her, so he won’t have to say a thing. 

“What kind of name… is ‘Smoke’?” He questions teasingly and she pounces on him right away, segueing into the next conversation topic easily.

“Well first of all, it’s not spelled how you’d think - it’s ‘S-m-o-a-k’. And It’s a great name, thank you, because how badass does that sound?” 

“Badass like a… firefighter?” He’s still teasing her, still searching for the words to draw out that musical laughter of hers. And he does it. She laughs again and the sound is like sunshine; he’s warm all the way from his nose to his toes just because of the sound of it. 

So, Felicity keeps talking, Oliver keeps prompting her here or there. And in this fashion, Oliver learns the secret origins of Felicity Smoak. From her fear of pointy objects to her fear of kangaroos, from her love of technology to her love of wine. He listens and he commits it all to memory, straining his overworked, battered brain. 

He can’t remember what he had for breakfast, but he can tell you all about how Felicity learned to count cards growing up in a casino. It’s useless knowledge to some. But every detail is worth remembering to him. Every fact and every story just make him like her that much more, make him that much more grateful that his neighbor on the other side of the curtain is this feisty young woman who brings so much vibrancy to the room with her sheer presence. 

\-----

It’s a hard night. 

He wakes around midnight to the sound of uneven breathing and quiet noises of fear. Instantly, he’s on alert.

“Felicity?!” He garbles sleepily, trying to push himself up into a sitting position. His head is throbbing, his legs are on fire. _ The painkillers have worn off _. Everything hurts but all he cares about in that moment is the woman on the other side of the curtain.

“O-Oliver?!” There’s so much relief as she says his name that he wants to hug her and chase away whatever has made her feel so afraid. They’ve only been together in this hell for a day but they already know they can rely on each other. And from the sound of her voice, she’s panicked, so Oliver doesn’t hesitate to figuratively leap into action.

“What’s wrong?” 

The pause before she answers him is too long. He’s envisioning a million worst case scenarios. And when she answers him, the reality is… actually, pretty terrible.

“Oliver I’m having a hard time breathing and… and I can’t feel my arms… I tried to hit my ‘Call Nurse’ button but I can’t feel my hands, I don’t think that I can push the button. And now, since I’ve been awake, I’ve lost feeling in my legs.” 

His finger is smashing the button on his own ‘Call Nurse’ button the moment she says she’s having difficulty breathing. He keeps smashing it as she rattles off her other, equally concerning symptoms. His heart races for her but then the tempo of his heart monitor changes so he tries to rein himself in. She can hear his monitor. If he goes haywire, she’ll know how bad this is, more so than she already does. He needs to be a calming presence, a shoulder to lean on, a firm foundation. 

“I can do that for you.” He assures her, as if he hasn’t already smashed that button a dozen times. _ Where the hell is everyone? _It feels like lifetimes but logically, he knows it has only been seconds. He needs to calm her down. 

“Let’s trade.” He suggests, deciding to pull her focus from herself by sharing his own difficulties. “I’m feeling too much… My legs are on fire… My head feels like… it’s being cut in half.” He explains and he hears the sharp inhale and instantly, she’s focusing on him instead. 

“Oliver! We need to ask them to get you another dose of pain meds. I’m so sorry, what can I do?”

Her voice takes on a sharp, protective edge, losing the ragged, fearful quality as she frets over him instead of panicking over the creeping paralysis in her body. He’s learned enough about her already to know she’s too kind to put her fears for herself above someone else’s wellbeing.

“Just keep talking to me? Your voice… it helps me think of something… other than the pain.” He breathes haggardly. Felicity doesn’t hesitate to talk, falling into a nervous ramble that he’s quickly coming to adore. 

“I’ve decided that I am in the wrong line of work. I mean, not entirely. Have I told you what I do? I work at Queen Consolidated. In their IT department. Which is fine, and I’m admittedly very good at what I do. But I think this whole experience has shown me that I want to help people. And I want to help them in ways beyond just… fixing their computers after they get viruses from watching porn or falling for pyramid schemes.” 

He tries to keep cool but this knowledge takes the air out of the room. _ She works for his family’s company? _He hasn’t told her his last name. Now he doesn’t want to. She’s probably grumbled under her breath while fixing his computer a time or two. 

“Medical technology is always evolving. I think I could help a lot of people designing technology for the sick and the injured. But to do that, I need to get out of IT and into R&D. Which might be difficult. But I’m sure I can manage it. Y’know… If I get out of here and I’m not paralyzed from the neck down.”

“You won’t be.” He responds hoarsely but firmly, not about to let her entertain the thought. “But even if you were... you’d still find a way to do it.” 

Before they can talk any further, the medical staff sweeps in. They head for Oliver but he pointedly lifts his good hand and points at Felicity emphatically. They take her vitals and poke and prod. She informs them no less than three separate times that Oliver’s pain meds have worn off and he needs something to reduce his pain. The selflessness of that act, while she’s losing the ability to control her own body, astounds him. 

Felicity continues to struggle to breathe through the rest of the night and into the morning, so they have hospital staff rotating through to check on her, waking both of them up. The staff try to be discreet, but Oliver wakes at the slightest noise, afraid it might be Felicity in need once again. He’s still kicking himself for not waking up sooner the first time; who knows how long she sat there, unable to move or call for the nurses.

By morning, Felicity is still numb in her arms and legs. According to the doctors, swelling is the body’s natural response to injuries such as hers, but this swelling is dangerous to her recovery as it can compress the spinal cord and possibly cause permanent damage. They recommend a course of treatment that leaves Felicity feeling less than thrilled - therapeutic hypothermia. But there’s nothing for it - the drugs they’ve given her haven’t helped enough, so they must attempt additional intervention or the paralysis she feels now could easily become permanent - if it isn’t already.

Using a catheter and saline, they work to lower her body temperature. Felicity whimpers when the doctors inform her of the need for the catheter. (_‘So many needles, so many pointy objects. I’m basically living my nightmare over here’ _she chatters nervously to Oliver as they insert it.) Conventional means such as ice packs tucked around her body are out of the question - there’s too great a risk of jostling her body and by extension, her spine. 

Felicity is so cold, her voice quavers whenever she and Oliver speak all through the morning. Winter comes creeping into her voice; he can _ hear _ how cold she is, can practically hear the icicles hanging off of every word she stammers out in her frozen state. He longs to go and wrap his arms around her, pull her flush against him, and breathe the warmth back into her, but he knows that the cold, however hard to bear, is necessary. When Thea comes by to see him around midmorning, he can hardly concentrate for fear of missing a subtle breath or a beep of Felicity’s monitor. But Felicity seems to be sleeping soundly for the duration of Thea’s visit and for that, at least, he’s happy. This whole ordeal has worn _ him _out - he can’t imagine the toll it’s taking on her.

The Queen siblings speak quietly for a few moments. Oliver doesn’t know what to say to his little sister. He’s more self conscious in front of her, more keenly aware that he must seem small and broken compared with the version of him she’s always known. They dance around the subject of their father’s death, but Oliver gleans that their mother is busy planning the funeral but has assured Thea she’ll be along later to visit Oliver. 

Oliver doesn’t ask questions about their father and Thea doesn’t offer anything up. Their grief is a living, breathing entity sitting between them, suffocating them both. That Robert Queen and his larger than life persona have been so suddenly extinguished has plainly left them both reeling. Oliver isn’t able to see the bags under Thea’s eyes or the redness of them but he can hear the scratchy quality to her voice from having cried herself hoarse. And he hears the way her voice catches here or there as she dances around her pain.

Oliver knows that seeing him like this isn’t helping his little sister, but she’s here out of loyalty and love. And he loves her all the more for that. But he can tell that it’s twisting her up inside to be here and he doesn’t want that for her. After they’ve had some time to visit, he claims to be tired (which in fairness, is entirely true). Thea jumps at the excuse to go, though not without promising to come back and assuring him that if he needs anything, she’ll bring it over in an instant. 

When Thea leaves, he relaxes a little and begins to drift off. He’s utterly exhausted; the sleepless night coupled with his concern for Felicity and his own mounting pain have depleted what little energy reserves he has left. He’s just settled into sleep when voices jar him awake. 

He hears them before he sees them; or rather, the blob-like shadows of them. 

Their steps are quick and determined. They hesitate for a moment in the doorway and then they spill into the room like two small tornadoes, hurriedly bypassing him to get to Felicity’s side. They quickly discover what he already knows just from the sound of Felicity’s breathing though - she’s still asleep. 

“Should we wake her up?” 

“No. I talked with her nurse on the phone when he called me as her emergency contact. He said that while she’s in traction, she can’t be moved. Her neck’s broken; if the vertebrae move wrong, she could be permanently paralyzed.”

“So what, she’s stuck like this indefinitely? Iris, that’s nuts!” 

“You think I don’t know that, Alena? Our best friend nearly _ died _ . She still might. And even if she does survive, she’s going to spend _ weeks _ not moving from this bed and then _ months _ or maybe even _ years _recovering and trying to regain her mobility.”

“Don’t forget the years of therapy I’ll need for having to be poked with so many needles.” 

Felicity’s voice is a groggy mumble but it cuts through the low level chatter of the room like a knife through butter and instantly, her friends fall silent. It takes a great deal of self control for Oliver not to laugh and let on that he’s listening. God, she's witty even half awake and heavily medicated. How is that even possible?

“You didn’t laugh. I thought that was funny. _ Oliver _ would have laughed. Oliver, are you awake? Did you hear me? I made a joke.” She rambles in a low undertone. Her voice sags with exhaustion but when she says his name, there’s a happy little lilt to it and he feels his heart beat faster to hear it. He likes how she says his name, and he really likes the way she brightens at mere mention of him. After such a drab, unpleasant night, this small detail is all he needs to lift his flagging spirits. 

“Do they know you’re... afraid of pointy things... like needles? ...It isn’t as funny if they... don’t know that.” Oliver rumbles back in answer and he can hear her soft chuckle in response and the little noises of surprise from her friends, who plainly thought him asleep. “They also don’t sound like hospital... patients, maybe they haven’t developed... our refined sense of gallows humor.” He adds for good measure and Felicity gives another laugh and this one goes on for a while, with a sound like a babbling, tiny waterfall. It makes him feel at peace to hear that sound. 

“Alena, Iris, this is my next door neighbor in hospital hell, Oliver. Oliver, allow me to introduce my friends Alena and Iris. Oliver can’t see very well right now, so you two need to introduce yourselves so he knows whose voice is whose.” Felicity instructs quietly and Oliver can’t help the shocked expression that unintentionally flits across his face. That’s… exceedingly thoughtful of her, to introduce them in a way that engages the senses he can _ actually _use at present. 

“O-kay then. Umm hi. Alena. Friend of Felicity.” 

“She’s another genius, Oliver. Tech whiz kid. Way cool.” Felicity adds on and he can hear the smile in her voice, can hear how proud she is of her friends. It’s sweet. “Iris, you next!” 

“Umm hi there! Iris. Also a friend of Felicity’s but unlike these two, not a genius.” 

“Don’t listen to her, she’s a journalism jedi. Seriously. She’s like a female Walter Cronkite. But better.” Her voice is brimming with pride and joy. If he wasn’t already completely endeared to her, this obvious affection for her friends would probably seal the deal, but Felicity has had him charmed from their first interaction, if he’s being honest. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet... you both.” Oliver responds smilingly, not bothering to introduce himself further because why would he? They know his name already and he doesn’t want to hijack Felicity’s time with her friends. But Felicity won’t allow him to sit on the sidelines.

“Oliver has been helping me a lot. He is basically the only reason that I haven't lost my mind while stuck here in traction. And if I ever walk again, he will be at least partly responsible for making it happen. He’s also recovering from a car accident and is an excellent neighbor - no snoring!” 

Oliver squirms beneath her praise, wholly unprepared for such a slew of compliments. He hasn’t done anything impressive, really. Just sit and talk with the woman who shares this semi-private hospital room with him. How hard is that? Not hard at all, when the person he’s talking to is Felicity. 

“Well that… that is extremely nice. Umm… Thank you. For being here for her when we couldn’t be.” It’s Alena speaking; she has a fluttery, airy quality to her voice.

“I should be thanking her… Felicity has been...remarkable. She really has helped.” 

There’s shared laughter - Iris and Alena’s, not Felicity’s - and then Iris pipes up.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Felicity’s nice to a fault. She helps anyone that she can. It’s kind of her thing.” 

“Is not.” Felicity mutters and Oliver feels his lips curl into a smile. Felicity isn’t a fan of the spotlight, but he already knows everything that her friends have said to be true. 

“Felicity, it totally is… You’ve talked yourself… hoarse. For your… blind, brain damaged neighbor… who’s a total stranger.” He reminds her and at this, there’s soft noises of agreement from the peanut gallery of Iris and Alena. 

“Did she ramble? She does that too.” It’s lighthearted and teasing when Alena asks the question and it makes Oliver grin. 

“She did. I like that... Her rambling is my...favorite.” 

There’s sudden silence and he worries he’s said to much, crossed a line he shouldn’t have. But then he hears Felicity’s voice and there’s so much light radiating from the sound that he swears, the room gets brighter with it.

“If I could take this contraption off without severely injuring myself and my chances of ever walking again, I would be kissing you right now.” 

“You don’t even know what I look like... How do you know that you want to kiss me? ...I could be _ hideous."_

And in truth, he _ is _ hideous right now. Thea had told him almost as much. Apparently his face is _ very _ smashed and _ very _ bruised and he looks distinctly ‘zombie-like’.

“You could be a three eyed, warty toad and I wouldn’t care. You just said you like my rambling. _ No one _likes my rambling, not even me. Not to mention, I would not be able to cope with all of this without you. Just as soon as I can move, mark my words, I’m kissing you.” 

“I’m not going to hold you to that… because I’m pretty sure you’re under the influence of...too many... narcotics to be of sound mind.” 

“Oliver, I have thought this through; if you’re ugly, I can always just kiss you on the cheek. See? I built in an emergency exit to this plan.”

At this he chuckles, because this is quintessential _ her._ She’s too smart to ever box herself into a corner. 

“Alright, I’ll hold you to that then… This means you have to get out of traction though… You can’t kiss me with a metal halo… around your face.”

“Baby steps towards recovery.” Iris interjects and Felicity sighs.

“I’ll settle for _ any _kind of steps. Just as long as I can walk. That would be great.” 

The rest of Alena and Iris’ visit passes uneventfully. They include him in their conversation and at Oliver’s request, Iris even pushes aside the curtain dividing the room in two. If he and Felicity are going to be neighbors who share everything (and they most certainly are), he sees no point in keeping up pretenses of privacy and neither does she. It’s not like Felicity can turn her head to look at him, and Oliver can’t see her with or without the curtain, so what is even the point?

When the two friends eventually leave, they even come say goodbye to Oliver, kissing his cheek delicately in parting with whispered words of thanks for keeping Felicity company and being there for her when they can’t be. As if he _ could _ be anywhere else. Now that he’s met her and been charmed by her, Oliver can’t imagine being anywhere other than at her side through this. It doesn’t matter that, he’s quite certain, there’s probably a private room available for him now. He doesn’t want to go anywhere. He can’t. Felicity needs him. And honestly, he needs her. If she’s not leaving, he’s not leaving. 

In the wake of the girls’ departure, silence falls between him and Felicity again, as it often does. With the number of injuries and medications they’re dealing with, neither of them seems to have energy for more than short bursts of conversation at a time. But after a while, he can hear the subtle change in her breathing. A little faster, a little shallower, like she’s a car engine revving up in anticipation of expending the energy to talk to him again. It’s her tell when she wants to talk, he realizes. He wonders if she knows that she does this or if this is just a subtlety that he’s picked up on in his sound-dependent state. 

“Oliver, can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“Dr. Snow said - I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have been listening but it’s kind of hard not to, all things considered-”

“Felicity, it’s fine, go ahead. It’s my medical status. I would choose to share it with you anyway. I told Iris to push back the curtain, remember? I might as well make you my emergency contact and make it official.” He teases lightly.

There’s silence and he wishes for perhaps the millionth time that he could see her face. Does she blush when she’s embarrassed? Does she have dimples? Do her eyes sparkle when she laughs or does she crinkle her nose? He has a million sights he wants to see and all of them are her. He wants to see her face, her smile, her eyes. Does she have a nervous tick? What shape are her lips? Does she have laugh lines yet? Does she frown when she’s concentrating? He doesn’t even know the color of her hair but _ god _, he wants to.

A million things he wants to see are all right there next to him but he can’t see them. If that isn’t a form of torture, he doesn’t know what is. 

“She said you might have brain damage. She said you might lose your vision permanently. And you haven’t said anything really about that. I’ve been having breakdowns left and right over here but not you.” 

There’s a question but she hasn’t voiced it yet and he doesn’t want to rush her, so he waits. It doesn’t take long for her to say what she’s thinking. 

“I just… if you’re trying to put on a brave face for me, you don’t have to. I just want you to know that if you need to vent or cry or _ anything _… I’m here for you. Just… don’t think you have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You can share it. Admittedly, that’s probably a poor choice of expression for the potentially paralyzed girl to use. But you get the idea… If you need a shoulder… I’m here.”

_ Felicity _. She’s too kind. He doesn’t really know how on earth he got so lucky to land in the same hospital as her, let alone with her for a neighbor. But he’s grateful that he did - if he were alone in a private room, he’s quite certain the depression, self doubt, and anxiety would be crippling him. But thanks to her, it isn’t. Is he still worried about facing the rest of his life unable to speak or think clearly? Yes. Does he still fear bing permanently blind because of this accident? Absolutely. 

But with her nearby, nothing is quite as scary. Felicity makes him feel like, whatever the problem might be, he can handle it. And that’s kind of amazing, really. 

“I don’t want to be blind… The thought of it… terrifies me.” 

The words are out of him before he can even give them a second thought. He doesn’t regret this fit of raw honesty though; he knows that his words are safe here, between him and Felicity. Odd, that a guy as closed off and emotionally inaccessible as him is suddenly able to be so forthcoming with someone he barely knows.

But Felicity isn’t a stranger. He doesn’t know what she is just yet, but he knows he can trust her. And that means a lot.

“I just want…. to see again... And to speak and think… without it being so hard… And I don’t want to be alone with my fear.” He confesses. He doesn’t need to delve deep into his feelings; just admitting that he’s afraid is enough to relieve a great deal of the tension he’s been carrying. 

“Well, for as long as we’re neighbors? You’re not alone. You have me… and I believe in you.” 

And really, that? That is _ everything _to him. 

\-----

Felicity’s breathing doesn’t improve, so they spend another sleepless night with staff coming in to check on her. There’s less urgency about it this time though; it’s more routine and with that subtle shift in energy, they are able to sleep at least moderately better in between checkups, no longer terrified that Felicity will keel over in the night. 

With the morning rounds, however, ‘routine’ falls by the wayside. This time, it’s Oliver who is of concern. The group of doctors that enter their room is… in a word? _Massive_. They introduce themselves to him one by one but he struggles to remember them all. _Doctor Wells - specializing in ophthalmology; Doctor Schwartz - neurosurgery; Doctor Raymond - orthopedic surgery; Doctor Ramon - speech pathologist. _The list goes on. Doctor Snow is in there somewhere, he can hear the reassuring murmur of her voice as she converses with Doctor Raymond. He even hears Barry getting instruction from Doctor Wells, and Doctor Ramon reviewing Oliver’s labs from the other day. When the group finishes summarizing Oliver’s case and discussing it, Doctor Wells steps up to assess Oliver vision. Which on its own, would be fine, but the sigh he releases as he does so makes Oliver’s hair stand on end. It’s a subtle, quiet thing, but as dependent as he’s becoming on his hearing now, Oliver is keenly aware of the sigh and what it might represent. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks directly as the doctor stops shining the light in his eyes. 

“Your pupillary response isn’t what I would want it to be, even given everything. And Doctor Schwartz and I aren’t particularly satisfied with your neurological functions post-op either, if I’m being frank. Your speech and verbal processing is still obviously reduced. But your eyesight is my biggest concern at present. Your neurological function can come back

“-And I believe it will, at least 75% or more.” Doctor Schwartz interjects hopefully. 

“But your eyesight? I’m less confident of.” Doctor Wells adds with a note of finality that makes Oliver’s stomach twist in knots. 

_ Well, that’s hardly reassuring _. Oliver’s unbroken hand curls into a fist, his fingernails biting into the palm of his hand as he tries not to freak out. 

“I’m recommending you for a vitrectomy surgery as soon as Doctor Schwartz clears you from your brain bleed surgery. Studies show that treatment within three months generally yields positive results for reversing vitreous hemorrhage like yours, but I think we need to opt for sooner rather than later, just to air on the side of caution.” The surgeon explains and Oliver nods numbly. Another surgery. That’s… well, frankly a little frightening. 

“What’s a vitr-... a victe-...”

“A vitrectomy is a surgery that removes the jelly like tissue behind the lens of the eye or in this case, the _ eyes, _and replaces it with a saline solution. You’ll still be visually impaired for a week or two after surgery but if all goes well, I’d say you have approximately a 90% chance of regaining your vision.” 

Oliver’s heart races and then suddenly stops. ‘If all goes well’ implies there’s a chance something could go wrong. The odds haven’t exactly been favoring him of late. 

“And if things don’t go well?”

“You’ll permanently lose your vision in both eyes.” 

The doctor is blunt but Oliver at least appreciates the honesty. It still hits like a sucker punch though and he is mentally reeling until a voice calls out jovially from the other side. 

“Don’t worry Oliver, love is blind and everyone still wants it. I’m sure you’d be no exception.” 

It’s ridiculous and unexpected and a wholly inappropriate thing to say at a time like this but it’s exactly what he needs in the moment; it jars him out of his fears and makes him snort with laughter, his whole body shaking with mirth as he practically _ howls _. When his hooting and hollering has quieted, he gasps for air with which to speak.

“Felicity, you always know just what to say.” 

“It’s a gift, what can I say?” 

The hospital staff are still standing around in awkward silence; he can make out their blurry shapes hesitantly waiting for a cue. None of them have laughed. Clearly they’ve had their funny bones surgically removed. So Oliver says as much. The peal of laughter from Felicity’s side of the room banishes his fears over his own surgery; her laughter is a pulse of electricity that chases away the gloom. He’s got his very own personal cheerleader right next door; what’s there to be afraid of with Felicity cracking jokes beside him? 

Felicity is status quo, which in Oliver’s mind is pretty much on par with being ‘stable’, so he’s satisfied with that. The doctors file out of their room and a little while later, their nurse, Barry, flits in and informs Oliver that his surgery has been scheduled for noon. 

That’s not a lot of time to make his peace with potentially going blind, but Oliver just nods and watches their speedy nurse zip out of the room to goodness knows where. 

“Just think, Oliver. Another week or two and you could be back to almost normal vision.” Felicity attempts to rally him, sensing his discomfort in the looming quiet. 

“My brain is still scrambled though.” He points out and to his surprise, there’s a soft chuckle in response. 

“Oliver, for as nice as you are to me, you should really learn to be a little nicer to yourself.” 

_ Huh? _

“I don’t follow you.” 

“Have you been listening to yourself today?” 

_ Listening to himself? _ Why on earth would he listen to himself when he can listen to _ her _? She’s so much more pleasant to listen to and lose himself in. 

“Not really, no. Why?” 

Another chuckle. What the hell? She’s not one to laugh at him when he’s upset, which he obviously is at present. 

“Oliver, you’ve been talking more readily and with very little halting today. I’m sure your head still hurts and it might still be hard to collect your thoughts but… You’re healing. It’s happening. You just have to take a step back to see it.” 

Her voice is soft - she’s handling him with kid gloves - but when he does as she says and takes a step back, he realizes she’s right. All morning, he hasn’t been constantly halting and struggling for words. They’ve been coming more easily to him. And yeah, he’s still got a splitting headache and his memory is still a tangled web, but he doesn’t feel like he’s fighting for every word and every thought. 

She’s right. That’s improvement. He’s just been too wrapped up in the areas where he _ hasn’t _improved as much to see it. It’s all a matter of perspective - and she’s got a great one. 

“How’d you get to be so smart?” 

“MIT, Class of 2009.” She chirps brightly and just like that they’re both laughing and the tension he’s been carrying begins to ease. Still, there’s a surgery looming. And she’s encouraged him to lean on her. So he does.

“Felicity?” 

“Oliver?” 

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared about this surgery.” He shifts, clunking his plaster encased arm against the bed railing as he struggles to sit up a bit. He so desperately wants something, some glimpse of her, before he gets wheeled out there. The pounding in his head is intense as he sits up and squints in her direction across the room. But she’s a blur and he has no better idea of what she looks like now than before.

_ God he wants to see her face _. 

“It’s going to be okay, Oliver. Whatever happens, you’re strong enough to bear it.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Because you’re strong enough to experience everything you’ve been through, and still put the sad, broken necked girl next door first. That’s not the act of a weak person, Oliver. You’ve been prioritizing me all this week. You don’t complain about the pain you’re in. You just soldier on and help those that you can - like me.” 

Her praise lands heavily on him. She’s so grateful but he truly doesn’t feel that he’s done anything special - he’s just talked with her and in doing so, she’s lit up his dark world. How is _ he _ the heroic one in this equation? Can’t she see that _ she’s _the one to be applauded? 

“I’m only strong because of you, Felicity.” He admits and he hears her sigh.

“No, Oliver. You’re strong all on your own. I’m just the lucky one on the receiving end of that strength. Trust me, you’re amazing with or without me around.” 

“I prefer ‘with you’ to ‘without you’.” 

It’s raw and vulnerable but true. She doesn’t say anything and he hopes he hasn’t upset her, but some indefinable quality in the silence doesn’t feel angry. It feels like she’s soaking his sentiment up. He hopes that’s what it is. 

“Felicity?” 

She hums a soft, contented noise of response and he inhales deeply, steeling himself to say the words. “I really wish I could see your face, just once.” If he’s about to lose his sight forever, he wishes he could have the chance to look upon her face, just once, before he never sees anything again. Something tells him she’d be a wonderful last sight on earth.

“You’ll see it, Oliver. After you recover from your surgery, you’ll get to see me in all of my messy haired glory.” She vows after a moment’s hesitation and he nods, though the sentiment doesn’t comfort him as much as he wishes it could. 

They make small talk until it’s time for him to go. When Barry comes to wheel him out of the room, Oliver feels his nerves begin to spike. 

“Can I just… Can you please wheel me over to her?” Oliver requests and Barry looks around nervously. 

“That’s probably not a good idea-” Barry trails off, clearly afraid of getting into trouble. 

Oliver huffs in exasperation but then, another idea comes to him.

“Felicity, do me a favor? Smile.” He instructs. 

“O-kay?” 

He stares across the room at the blurred, distorted shapes that comprise her hospital bed and, somewhere in the blurriness, _ her _. He stares long and hard, then closes his eyes. 

“Okay. Thanks Felicity. Barry? Wheel me away. I gotta go get these eyes of mine fixed so I can properly appreciate the view of my next door neighbor.” Oliver instructs the nurse. As Barry begins to wheel him out of the room and the gurney wheels rumble along the floor, Felicity calls out to him.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Oliver! You can do this!” 

He smiles, still keeping his eyes firmly closed. 

“I’ll be seeing you real soon, Felicity.” 

And for once in this wretched place, he’s hopeful. Even if he loses his sight in this surgery, he’s at least ensured that his last sight was of her. It doesn’t matter that he couldn’t make out the details of her face. Knowing that the last thing he saw before surgery was her? That’s all the strength he needs to see him through this. 

\-----

When he comes to, he can feel the bandages wrapped around his head, covering his aching eyes. His headache is splitting, the pain acute and radiating from behind his eyes out through the rest of his head. But he’s awake and alive, so he supposes that’s at least _ something _. 

“Did y’miss me?” He mumbles groggily, his lips twitching into a tiny smile as he slowly comes back to his senses. But then he freezes because something is wrong. 

He hears a subtle shift and an intake of breath from his left side. 

“Oh Oliver!” His mother’s relief is palpable and her arms are suddenly around him, her perfume hanging over him (lavender and something else floral) as she embraces him tightly. “We were so worried!” 

“We?” Oliver rasps and there’s a gentle tap on his right shoulder as his sister speaks.

“Hey Ollie.” Thea’s voice is warm and familiar, like melted chocolate. He’s certain she’s smiling. He’s quickly learning you can _ hear _the smile in a person’s voice, if you listen closely enough. 

“Sorry to worry you guys. I’m alright though. Don’t know about my vision yet.” Instinctively, he cranes his neck a little, expecting some sort of uplifting, positive commentary from Felicity. But it doesn’t come. Perhaps she doesn’t want to interrupt his time with his family. 

Settling back against his pillows, Oliver inclines his head towards his mother - she’s sitting on his left, so Felicity must be lying just past her. 

“Mom, is Felicity awake?” 

“Who?”

“Felicity. My neighbor? She’s the witty patient over there.” He lifts his good arm and indicates towards Felicity’s side of the room. His sister makes a grumbling noise and his mother clears her throat and Oliver feels his heart begin to thud within his chest.

Has something happened to Felicity while he was in surgery? The very notion fills him with dread. He’s kicking himself for leaving her, until his mother speaks. 

“Oh darling, we had you moved out of that dreadful shared room after your surgery. You need peace and quiet to heal and that girl and her doctors keeping you up all night was certainly not going to provide that.” 

The room goes so silent, he’s surprised they can’t hear the way the blood is roaring in his ears. 

“You… you had me _ moved _?!” 

The silence suddenly makes perfect sense. His uplifting neighbor, the one who has been there for him through this entire ordeal, is no longer on the other side of an open curtain. In that moment, it doesn’t matter that Oliver’s eyes are bandaged closed. 

He sees _ red _. 


	2. Chapter 2

Time passes immeasurably slowly without Oliver, Felicity discovers. 

Without the quiet sounds of his fidgeting or the soft rumble of his breathing she's lost (he’s not a snorer but he’s also not precisely the quietest sleeper - his breathing is loud but she likes it). Seconds seem to take years and Felicity, unable to engage with her sterile environment, retreats into her own mind. It is not lost on her that, if she is paralyzed from the neck down, this will be her reality. Being alone has never scared her before - she appreciates her alone time as much as the next introvert - but now? Now solitude is too frightening to contemplate. Her limitations make solitude almost unbearable. 

The heart monitor beside her begins to chirp faster as she spirals deeper into her crushing panic. 

What happens after the hospital? Sure, she has Oliver _ for now _ , but he’s going to get out of here in a week or maybe two and then where will she be? Still here. Unmoving. Unchanged. Stagnant. She’ll get the occasional visit from Iris or Alena. But the hours and days and perhaps weeks between those visits? How will she survive _ those _ ? How will she survive the months, maybe _ years _of recovery, unable to move or exist the way she has all her life?

And what if the worst should happen and she’s paralyzed by this injury? What if she never regains her ability to walk or to type?

Oh my gosh she might never hack again. What is she if she can’t be a computer whiz?!

All of these things and more swirl in her brain, panicking her. She manages to prevent herself from losing herself completely to her fears, but it’s a close thing. Without Oliver, tipping the scales away from an anxiety attack is much harder. 

Suddenly, something occurs to Felicity. She’s heard the call for the end of visiting hours. But if it’s already that late in the day, Oliver should have been back by now. Even if his surgery took longer than expected, she doesn’t know of any reason why he wouldn’t have been returned here, this many hours later.

Her heart begins to beat more rapidly. 

What if he isn’t back yet because something went wrong with his surgery? What if, at this very moment, Oliver is losing his vision permanently? What if his brain couldn’t handle the stress of surgery and there was a complication? What if, at this very moment, he’s flatlining on the table?!

_ Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. _

Her heart monitor is going completely haywire now. How selfish she’s been, worrying about herself and _ her _ struggles without him, instead of thinking about _ him _ and what might be going on in that surgical suite. If something’s happened to Oliver, she’ll never forgive herself for urging him to have the surgery. Who does she think she is to be making those recommendations?! Oh god, what’s she done?!?

When Barry comes in to check on her because of her dangerously elevated heart rate, she’s in a full blown spiral and she can’t seem to pull herself out of it. Still, she takes the opportunity to inquire after her neighbor.

“Any word on Oliver? How’s his surgery going? Do they think it was successful?” She rambles nervously, desperate for any scrap of info. But Barry just shakes his head. 

“You know I can’t share patient info, Felicity.” He rebukes her gently. “Besides, right now I’m more worried about you - what’s going on? Your heart rate is through the roof.”

“What’s going on? What’s going on is I’m worried about my friend! He should have been back by now. Come on Barry, give me _ something _.” 

“His mom could end my career if she found out I broke privacy laws to tell someone about her son. She’s like… seriously scary.” Barry explains and Felicity closes her eyes and swallows. Of course. Privacy laws. “Now, I’m giving you something to help with your heart rate. Just breathe, okay Felicity? We need to focus on _ you _ right now, not Oliver.”

“Come _ on _ Barry, he’s my best friend!” 

“Really, he’s your best friend, not me?” Barry’s trying to be funny but it just makes Felicity gnash her teeth.

“Barry! This is no joke! Please, give me _ anything _ about how he’s doing and I’ll be happy. Is his surgery finishing up yet? Were there complications? Just… tell me if he’s alright? _ Please _ , at least tell me that. I need to know that he’s okay. His mom can’t be _ that _scary?” 

“Uh _ yeah she is _. You should have seen her go full dragon lady on Doctor Snow earlier when she came in demanding that Oliver get moved to a private room after his surgery.” Barry rambles freely as he jots down notes in her chart. But Barry’s words pull the rug out from under her and Felicity is suddenly spinning out even more than before, if that’s possible.

“When she demanded _ what _?!”

Barry’s eyes go wide and he looks at Felicity in surprise and then hesitation, caught between a rock and a hard place.

“Yeah well… she uh came in and said he needed his rest and privacy in order to recover. And then she threatened a lot of scary things but basically, she got him moved. He’s out of surgery and recovering in his private room now...” Barry explains in a furtive whisper, rubbing the back of his neck as he lamely finishes his story.

Felicity feels her blood go colder than any of her hypothermia treatments have managed. Just like that, all the warmth and sun has gone from her world. Everything is just… _ empty _.

Oliver isn’t coming back. She’s really alone now. This isn’t just a temporary window of time without him - she’s on her own. Facing paralysis and the world without Oliver to cheer her on isn’t just hypothetical. It’s now her reality. 

But he’s alive. He made it through surgery. That’s what matters right now; even if her own personal outlook is suddenly bleak, she’ll bear it if it means Oliver is alright.

“Oh.” She responds quietly, the tears already pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Umm… okay. Thanks Barry. So… So he’s okay then?”

Barry nods, clearly not picking up on her utter dismay. “Yeah, woke up a while ago. But _ don’t _tell anyone you know that.” 

She holds the tears at bay until he leaves her a little while later. But when she’s alone again and there’s no one to hear her, she cries. And she tries not to - she knows the slightest jostling of her body could be catastrophic. But she can’t help herself. And then she remembers that this is how Oliver first came to her rescue and she cries a little harder, knowing there’s no one to talk to her and guide her out of the forest of her fears now. 

He’d said he’d see her later. She hadn’t realized ‘later’ might actually mean ‘never’ or ‘goodbye’. She didn’t ever even get to see his face. Or give him the kiss she’d promised. Or shake his hand and say ‘thank you’ for all he’d done. She’d just cracked jokes and told him everything would be fine. She’d acted like they had all the time in the world. 

And now he’s gone and he’s probably not coming back. 

\-----

“Oliver, please calm down darling,” his mother is trying to get him to relax but Oliver isn’t about to ‘calm down’. Thanks to his mother’s unwanted meddling, Oliver has now abandoned Felicity. What must she be going through right now, alone and unable to move? Nothing good, he wagers. And the very idea that Felicity might be struggling without him there to comfort her? That amps his rage up to new levels.

He’d said he would see her soon. And instead, he’s left her alone in their room.

“I will not _ ‘calm down’ _, mother.” Oliver growls, wrenching away from his mother’s hands as she attempts to quiet him. Swinging his head blindly about, he tries to listen for Thea. He catches the faint jangle of her charm bracelet and zeroes in on her that way.

“Thea, I need you to find a charge nurse or a doctor and tell them I need to speak with them right away.” 

“Ollie are you sure-”

“I’m positive. Go now, please.” Oliver directs through gritted teeth, doing his level best not to take his rage out on his little sister, but his voice is still raised. The moment that she’s gone, Oliver whirls on his mother with barely restrained rage.

“The next time that you think you know what I need, consider actually _ asking me _ . I didn’t want to change rooms! It may have escaped your notice, but Felicity _ helps _ me. She’s the one who has been getting me through this. And you took me away from her!!”

“Oliver, you have a traumatic brain injury! You need time and peace and quiet to heal-”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I NEED!” He roars, his chest heaving now. And he doesn’t want to get mad at her, he _ knows _ she’s struggling since the accident and he knows losing his father has been hard. But she’s not _ listening _. She’s so convinced she knows what he needs better than he does. And she’s wrong. 

He hears his heart monitor beeping but he doesn’t pause to consider it. He needs to get back to Felicity and if his mother won’t listen to him, he’ll make the doctors listen. He feels around blindly for the ‘Call Nurse’ button and when he finds it (or what he thinks is it) he smashes it roughly. 

But he doesn’t stop there. Oliver swings his legs over the bed, determined to go find someone to get him moved. 

“Oliver what do you think you’re doing? Stop, you can’t put weight on your legs just yet, the doctors want you on bedrest.”

“And if I was still in my old room, I would be more than happy to stay on bedrest. But here we are.” Oliver snaps. He’s not thinking clearly; his head feels as though someone is chopping it in half with an axe. And there’s a new, pulsing pain now and an intense sense of pressure that’s making it worse, but he ignores it. 

He’s got to get back to his old room. If his mother is going to be bullheaded about this, Oliver will have to out-stubborn her. 

“Oliver, stop!” He feels his mother’s hands on his chest, trying to push him back on the bed but even weakened in the hospital, he outweighs her and he’s got enough adrenaline going right now that he simply leans forward and slides out of the bed, expecting to land simply on his feet.

Instead, he feels his legs buckle beneath him and he howls as his legs radiate a fiery pain made all the worse as he collapses atop them. 

“OLIVER!” 

“What happened?!”

“Get out of the way!” 

There’s a flurry of movement and voices. He hears Thea and a Doctor (is it Raymond? He’s not as familiar with his orthopedic surgeon’s voice) enter the room and then suddenly he’s being hoisted up off the ground and put back in bed. But by this point, rational thought has fled. His head is thundering even worse and the rage is still there, burning him up from the inside out. 

“Let me go! I want to go back to my old room!” He shouts as he flails a little. He feels strong hands holding him down and new voices come in and enter the cacophony of sound. 

“What the hell happened?” Doctor Schwartz’s voice comes in, concerned, even panicky sounding. 

“His blood pressure is through the roof, we need to calm him down!” 

“I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!” Oliver roars as another pair of hands pin him down onto the bed. “I want to go back to my old room! Do you hear me? TAKE ME BACK!” 

There’s the sound of more activity - drawers opening and someone rifling through things - and then he feels his body go all to mush and he relaxes involuntarily. The last thing he hears before the world goes silent is Doctor Schwartz explaining herself to his mother and sister. 

“I’ve given him a sedative; if we don’t get his intracranial pressure down, it could cause another brain bleed. We have to get him calm. Now, what on earth _ happened_?”

\-----

Barry tries not to get too attached to his patients. Working in the ICU means that, more often than he’d like, his patients don’t get happy endings. And becoming emotionally invested in all of them is how people burn out. Compassion fatigue is real and it’s something the young ICU nurse is hoping to avoid. 

But his patients in Room 320 are a special exception. On their own? They’re both nice enough people, but probably nothing to break his rule about staying detached over. Together? Together, he can’t help but get emotionally invested. They bring out the best in each other.

So, Barry’s more than a little upset at the developments that have led to Oliver being moved out of the room, leaving Felicity all on her lonesome. It doesn’t escape Barry’s attention that, less than one day without Oliver around, and Felicity’s already having panic attacks and flirting with serious depression. All of the hospital staff have commented on how good for each other the two patients have been - what they haven’t accounted for is how _ bad _their absence from each other would also be. 

Cisco Ramon, the resident speech pathologist, has even come up with a ‘ship name’ for them (‘Like Brad and Angelina are Brangelina, right? So Oliver and Felicity? They could be like… Feliver or… _ ooh, _‘Olicity’, what do you guys think?’) 

But the beauty of it all is, the two are just friends (or at least, as far as Barry knows, that’s all they are). Whatever the case, they’re beautifully supportive friends who have come to rely on each other. And now, being ripped apart the way they have? It’s hurting them.

Both of them, as it turns out. Because not long after Barry medicates Felicity because of her racing heart and panic attack, he gets paged to Oliver’s new room, where there’s a gaggle of doctors all conversing and trying to settle Oliver’s _ very _upset mother. 

“What happened?” Barry whispers the question to his friend Doctor Caitlin Snow, who’s speaking in an undertone with the ortho surgeon, Doctor Ronnie Raymond. 

“Oliver woke up and when he found out he got moved out of the room with Felicity, he lost it.” It’s Ronnie who answers him and Barry stares at the pair of them in wide eyed horror.

“Seriously?”

“He tried to climb out of bed to go find her, fell to the ground, and kept yelling at everyone and getting himself all worked up, so Doctor Schwartz had to sedate him because his blood pressure was so high, he was at risk of another brain bleed.” Caitlin confirms sadly and Barry’s aghast. 

“Felicity had a full blown panic attack when I told her he’d gotten a room change. Those two seriously need each other more than I realized.” 

“I know, moving them was a mistake but his mother wouldn’t listen and the attending told me if I didn’t make the Queen family happy, the whole hospital was going to get screwed. I didn’t know what else to do.” Caitlin murmurs guiltily. At that moment, Doctor Schwartz walks up to the trio, looking at them scrutinizingly. 

“Raymond. Snow. Allen. I need you to see to it that Mister Queen comes out of the sedative and remains calm. When he’s awake and you’ve assured his vitals are good, I want him moved back to his old room. Miss Smoak is still there, correct?” She inquires and Barry nods in open mouthed surprise. “Good. See to it that those two stay together and get everything that they need. I don’t want another fiasco like this; I don’t think Oliver’s brain can handle another episode like today's and quite frankly, neither can my nerves. If his mother says anything, kindly remind her that Oliver is our patient, not her, and he has made his wishes extremely clear insofar as his room placement is concerned.” 

\-----

Felicity is still crying a while later, when a loud knock cuts through the otherwise quiet room, prompting her eyes to fly wide open as she quickly tries to quell her tears. She doesn’t need any of the doctors berating her for crying, that will just make her feel worse than she already does. 

“Knock knock! Guess who’s back?” Barry crows excitedly and Felicity’s heart soars when she hears the sound of rolling gurney wheels followed by:

“If you’ll still have me, of course.” Oliver’s voice is like a warm hug and sweet as honey. Felicity hardly dares to breath at first, afraid she’s dreaming. If she could move, she’d pinch herself to be sure she’s really awake.

“I-Is it really you?”

“In the heavily medicated, post-op flesh.” There’s mirth dancing in his voice and it makes her heart race; his surgery must have gone well. He sounds positive and confident and _ happy _ . It makes her delirious with joy to hear him and to hear him sounding so _ good _.

“Are you serious? Of course I’ll have you, yes!” She answers a little breathlessly, trying to chase the husky quality out of her voice. There’s no need to cry anymore; Oliver’s back. He’s like her very own personal dreamcatcher. He keeps all the bad at bay - waking or sleeping. 

“Felicity,” his voice is protective and laced with concern as the sounds of the gurney getting wheeled into the room echo and reverberate off the walls, “have you been crying? What’s wrong?” 

“I was,” she admits, sniffing raggedly as she gets herself sorted out again, “but I’m okay now. I’m… I’m _ really _ glad you’re back.” She exhales, feeling more elation than she can put into words at Oliver’s return. She’s not ready to face things without him. She’s not sure if she ever will be, but to be given this stay of execution? She’s thrilled. 

“How did your surgery go?” She asks, even though she has her suspicions. She still needs to hear it from him, needs to know that he’s going to be okay. She _ needs _ him to be okay. Oliver deserves nothing less than a full recovery, in her book. 

“Well, I’m told it went well. But I get to rock a bandaged up head and face for at least a week while my eyes recover... So for now, I’m totally in the dark.” He explains and Felicity wishes she could press a kiss to his forehead to let him know it’s all going to be alright. 

“You sound pretty optimistic. I’m glad.” 

“Well, I’ve got my lucky charm back. I’ve got a lot to be happy about.” He returns and Felicity can feel the blush on her cheeks that his compliment elicits. How can he possibly think that _ she _is a good luck charm? He’s the freaking sun to her. She’s just an upset little gray cloud he is continually stopping from turning stormy. 

But with Oliver back, what’s there to be upset about? The world’s been put to right again, for both of them. 

\-----

As it turns out, there’s still plenty to be upset about, even though Oliver’s been moved back to the room he shared with Felicity. Felicity’s breathing grows more labored that night and now Oliver can hear every breath she’s fighting for, loud and rattling. Her heart rate isn’t all that great either, apparently. It’s highly upsetting to him to hear her in such distress, but he’s glad he’s there to support her through it. Still, the irregular beeps from her heart monitor form the rhythm of a song he’s coming to hate because it means she’s not doing well. 

The next morning, Barry comes to inform them that Felicity has to be wheeled away so they can get images of how her spine is looking after being in traction for a few days. It’s a quick trip - Felicity is getting the Queen family VIP level treatment now too - Oliver has demanded as much - so Barry has her back in a flash. No waiting in queues for Felicity or Oliver now. Oliver can’t think of a better cause to throw his family’s money and power behind than ensuring that Felicity gets the best possible care. 

A short while after Felicity returns, the doctors do their rounds. They’re pleased with how Oliver is looking post-op. They’re less pleased with Felicity and the results of her scans and the news that they deliver is quite frankly, grim. 

“Miss Smoak, your cervical vertebrae are still highly unstable; it doesn’t appear that the traction has worked to stabilize your spine in the way we’d hoped it would.” Doctor Raymond informs her with an apologetic air.

Oliver swears he can hear her swallow from here and instinctively, he puts out a hand as if to hold hers, then realizes that she of course, is too far away to take it, and couldn’t move to do so even if she were close enough.

_ Damn he wants to hold her hand. _

“So what does that mean for my prognosis?” Felicity asks quietly, and her voice lacks its usual bouncing, brimming optimism, but instead comes out timid and unsteady. 

“If you are to have any chance of ever walking again, you’ll require surgery. The procedure is called a posterior instrumentation. In essence, it requires that we cut open the back of your neck to place metal screws and rods inside to stabilize the break and help your spine start to fuse back together.” Doctor Schwartz this time, concise and gentle. 

“Because of the nature of your cervical vertebrae fracture, we also want to do a bone graft. Our best bet is to take bone from your hip and place it in your neck to help with the spinal fusion. Hip grafts have a longer recovery time than the knee - roughly six months - but given that you’re already looking at a long recovery time, we’d like to go this route because we think it will provide us with the best opportunity to successfully stabilize your spine.” Doctor Raymond explains. But Felicity is still stuck on the fact that they want to cut open her neck.

“Y-You…you want to cut me open? But you said any movement could paralyze me-”

“It’s not a procedure that is without risks, Miss Smoak. I won’t lie. You could die on the table. You could be paralyzed by the procedure. The procedure might not be able to reverse your radiating numbness. I don’t know what will happen if you do have surgery. But I do know that if you don’t, you _ will _be paralyzed for the rest of your life. The choice is yours. But we need to move forward within the next twenty four to forty eight hours.” This time, Doctor Schwartz is less gentle. This is hard to hear and though he can’t see Felicity, it’s hard for Oliver to bear witness to this. 

This is far, _ far _worse than Oliver’s diagnosis from the day prior. There are people living relatively unassisted, normal lives all over the world who are blind. But if Felicity is paralyzed from the neck down? She’ll need assistance with most aspects of day to day life for as long as she lives. 

He can feel the way this news has deflated her like a tangible thing. Her grief and her fear are palpable entities.

“I’ll make you a deal, Smoak. I’ll be your arms and legs if you’ll be my eyes.” He remarks and though the doctors probably think he’s cracking a joke, there’s raw honesty and genuine intent behind the reassurance. He hears a soft, wet laugh - she’s crying but he’s at least drawn forth a little joy out of her. 

“You sure you want to hitch your wagon to me?” She asks as the doctors file out of the room, their steps a collective shuffle as they go. When they are alone once more, Oliver speaks. 

“Who better?” 

“Literally anyone.” She exhales back softly and those two words are filled with so much pain, Oliver feels as though he might drown in it. Not for the first time, he curses their injuries for creating these tiny islands of isolation that they’re on; him and his blindness, her and her (hopefully temporary) paralysis. 

“We’ll have to agree to disagree... I can’t think of anyone better to be my eyes. You already watch over me better than anyone else.” 

“Hard to watch over you when I’ll be incapable of moving.” She answers back hollowly and Oliver feels gutted by her understandable sorrow. 

“You don’t know that that’s what will happen just yet.” He reminds her quietly and with hope. 

“As your eyes, I have to tell you that things aren’t exactly looking bright here, Oliver.” She informs him and he takes a deep breath, refusing to back down and admit defeat. He’ll fight for her, even if she can’t or won’t fight for herself right now. 

“Then I’ll buy a really bright lamp.” 

And it’s stupid. But he hears the breathy, exhaling laughter as she concedes and allows herself to come up for air from the sea of her grief. 

“You’re ridiculous.” She informs him and he smiles, though he knows she can’t see it. 

“Only where you’re concerned.” 

\-----

It takes a little while; he can feel from the nervous way she skirts the subject that she’s not ready to talk about her options. But after a couple of hours of their usual banter, Oliver finally brings it up. Time, after all, is of the essence. 

“So, about your surgery,”

“I haven’t decided yet, Oliver.” 

The rebuke comes fast and firm but behind the words, he can feel the anxiety churning. She’s trying to put on a brave face. But he can’t see her face; he _ hears _her voice though, and it’s not selling him on this ‘she hasn’t decided’ business. 

“You’re afraid to do it.” 

“They want to cut into my spine and it could kill or paralyze me. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say ‘afraid’ is at the top of the list.” 

This isn’t her usual, lighthearted humor. These are sharp barbs, filed to a point by the force of her fear. And that’s when Oliver realizes it. She’s _ paralyzed _ by fear. Which, all things considered, is probably ironic or maybe it isn’t, he can never remember what technically is ironic and what’s not.

But the important thing is, she is too scared to choose. And that can’t be allowed to stand. 

“Felicity, if you don’t have the surgery... you will never forgive yourself. You’ll always wonder ‘what if’. I don’t want that for you. But if you choose not to... if that’s what you _ want _, then I will support you. But for whatever the blind guy’s opinion is worth? ...I think you should go through with it. No matter what though, I’ll be right here for you.” 

There’s a beat of silence and then she says something that knocks the air out of his lungs and makes his heart swell dramatically.

“Well of course you will be; I never doubted that.” 

Oliver hasn’t achieved much in his life thus far. But Felicity’s faith, Felicity’s trust? To have achieved those are really the only things he thinks he might need out of life. Well, that and to see her face.

He really needs that. Even if he winds up blind, he really needs to ‘see’ her face using his hands to trace her lips and her cheeks so he can create a mental map of it. He needs to know her as thoroughly as he possibly can. It’s not a want, at this point. Truly, it’s a need. 

Clearing his throat, Oliver shakes himself out of his thoughts and refocuses on her; she’s the priority here, not his desperate need to see her. 

“Well, I’m glad you know that. Because it’s true. Whatever happens… I’ll be here.” There’s deep emotion behind the words. He means it when he says he’ll be there for her. Even if he has to move mountains, there’s nothing that would stop him. “Just… give it some thought, will you? I know it’s scary but if you ask me, the alternative is even scarier.” 

“You’re right, of course. Not walking again… Never using my hands again… I can’t fathom it. But Oliver… I could die.” She reminds him and his stomach bottoms out at the mere thought of it.

“I don’t believe that you will.” His voice is hoarse as he fights to keep his own fear and other emotions in check. “But I understand why that’s...obviously a huge consideration.” 

“Oliver, I don’t want to die. And I don’t want to be paralyzed… There’s so much left I want to do. There’s so much I haven’t accomplished yet...”

“I know.” It’s only two, whispered words, but he infuses them with all the compassion and understanding that he can. 

“I’m scared.” 

“I know… I am too.” 

It feels wrong to be anything less than stoic for her but he thinks it’s important to be honest and so he lays his emotions bare for her. He doesn’t want anything to go awry in her surgery but the odds aren’t precisely great. Still, he wants her to try. He wants her to be able to someday walk out of here. There’s only one path that includes that possibility. 

“Oliver?” 

“Felicity?” 

“I have to have the surgery, don’t I?”

He swallows twice and weighs his words carefully. He has to get this just right, for her sake. 

“You don’t _ have _ to do anything, Felicity. But if you want a shot at walking again, then having the surgery is your chance for that.” 

Silence grows between them and he can almost hear the gears in her brain whirring and turning as she grapples with this monumental, life altering decision. 

“I promised you a kiss,” she reminds him and his heart flutters at the mere mention of it (as if he could possibly have forgotten about that), “-I guess if I want to make good on that promise, I better have the surgery.” 

“That is _ not _ a consideration here, Felicity.” He chastises her gently and she chuckles. 

“Are you getting cold feet on this kiss?” 

“Hardly.” 

“Then it’s a consideration… I’m having the surgery. Can you… Can you call for a nurse so I can let them know?” 

"Of course."

They lapse into silence until a gentle knock at the door draws both of their attention. It’s Barry.

“Hey you two, you rang? What’s up?!” 

Oliver hears her inhale slowly and all the while, he’s holding his breath to see what she’ll say even though he believes he already knows.

“Can you tell Doctor Raymond and Doctor Schwartz that… I’ll do it? I’ll have the surgery.” Felicity stammers nervously and yet somehow, also with conviction. 

“Absolutely.”

Oliver wants to tell her how proud he is of her for making this choice. He knows how scary it is to agree to surgery with unknown, life altering outcomes. And he knows how much more serious her surgery will be than his was. But he’s so glad that she’s chosen to at least try. No matter the outcome, he’ll be there to help her through. But as he’s looking for the words to say to express precisely that, Barry suddenly pops back in.

“You’re on the board for tomorrow! Congrats - let’s get that spine stabilized!” 

_ Tomorrow _. 

They don’t have a lot of time together between now and then. It’s not lost on him that the risks with this are huge and while he truly believes she’ll pull through, there’s a chance that he might never speak to her again after they wheel her out of here. 

_ He might never see her face in person. _

But he can’t let himself think like that. Because he needs to be a firm foundation of strength for her. So instead, he fixes a smile to his face and calls out to her. 

“Alright, Smoak. T-minus one day. How are we gonna live it up before you go under the knife, huh?” 

“I was thinking a kegger, personally.” She shoots back with her classic quick humor and Oliver chuckles until she speaks again, this time so softly he almost misses it. 

“Honestly? ...I just really want someone to hold my hand, Oliver.” It’s a quiet admission and it is not lost on him in that moment just how isolated she has been. Sure, they’re both on their own islands of a sort. But Oliver has been able to hug and touch and otherwise interact with the people around him.

Felicity? She can’t move a finger without fear of the consequences. She’s been completely devoid of any human touch aside from the limited clinical handling she’s had from her doctors. Her hunger for a simple touch is completely understandable. And he longs to reach across the gulf between them to take her hand.

As his latest attempt at standing has proven, however, he’s in no fit condition to cross the room to go to her, though he desperately wishes that he could. 

“Do you remember what you told me before my surgery, when I said I wished I could see your face?” He reminds her and after a moment, there’s a quiet hum as she remembers it.

“I told you that you would see it after your surgery.” 

“Felicity?”

“Yeah?”

“After your surgery, I will be here to hold your hand. I promise you.” 

Silence stretches between them and for a moment, he wonders if she’s fallen asleep. But then, her voice lifts over the quiet - faint but entirely heartfelt.

“Thank you, Oliver. I’m really looking forward to that.” 

“So am I, Felicity. So am I.” 

\-----

Somehow, morning arrives entirely too quickly. Felicity feels utterly spent from another sleepless night. She can’t take deep breaths anymore. Despite her fears regarding the surgery, she knows that it’s coming not a moment too soon. Her body has exhausted itself trying to carry out its rudimentary functions. It’s time to do whatever it takes to set things right. 

Besides, she’d really like to be able to hold Oliver’s hand when they take the bandages off his face to assess whether or not he can see. He’s going to need her then as badly as she’s needed him up to now. If she’s going to stand any chance of doing that, she’s got to have the surgery.

Still, she can’t ignore the way her empty stomach lurches as the hours march by unceasingly, drawing her ever closer to the moment where her future will be decided with an incision and a few metal screws and wire. 

“I can practically hear you thinking from here, Felicity.” 

Oliver’s voice is a weary grumble; he’s still half asleep but there’s humor in his voice as he talks to her in the predawn darkness. Well, she’s assuming it’s predawn. She can’t see the clock, and their window hasn’t yet started letting in the light, but their room doesn’t have a great angle on the sun, so it could easily be later. She’s just guessing here.

“I have a genius level IQ, Oliver. It’s a safe bet that I’m _ always _thinking.” She tries to tease but it falls a little flat; she’s scared and it’s showing. 

“Felicity? Remember. I’ll be here to hold your hand.” 

She’s not sure what she’s done to deserve Oliver as her guardian angel, but she’s so tremendously thankful for him. Somehow, he seems to know just what to say to her. 

“Even if I have clammy hands?”

“Even if you have clammy hands. Or calloused hands. Or wrinkly, old lady hands.” He teases gently and despite herself, she giggles for a moment. 

“Oliver?”

“Yes?”

“I-If something goes wrong - and I’m not saying that I think it will - I just… If something goes wrong… Will you be there for my Mom? And Iris and Alena too?”

She needs to know that the people she loves will be taken care of. Asking Oliver to speak to them is the closest she can come to accomplishing that if the worst should happen on that operating table. 

“If something goes wrong, I’ll be there for all of them.” He vows and there’s such sincerity in his voice that it brings tears to her eyes. She’s not entirely sure how, in the span of a week, she’s come to depend and trust him so much but she does. And it means a great deal to her that he’s agreed to this.

“Thank you.” 

“I’d do anything you needed me to, Felicity,” Oliver assures her delicately, “-but you’re going to be able to be there for them yourself… I know you will. You’re going to make it through this and you’re going to be on your feet again.”

“You sound pretty confident about that.” 

“I am. Because you’re remarkable.” 

Before she can respond, there’s a rap at the door and she hears the sound of a gurney being wheeled in. Right away, her heart rate spikes.

_ It’s time _.

“Hey there you two. Sorry to interrupt. Felicity, we’re here to take you up for pre-op.” 

Barry and Doctor Snow come to her bedside. She feels them fussing with the traction equipment, removing her from it with great care. All too soon, she’s detached and they’re carefully moving her over to the gurney. She holds her breath the entire time, her fear spiking until she hears Oliver’s voice from across the room.

“Be careful with Felicity, you two. She’s precious cargo.” 

Everyone smiles at this and Barry gives her a reassuring wink. 

“That goes for him too, you know. I need you guys to watch out for Oliver while I’m gone. He’s my best friend. I’m kinda attached to him at this point.” Felicity informs the duo of staff gently and she hears Oliver chuckle. Now that the traction equipment is no longer blocking her peripheral vision, she strains to make out his features but she really can’t see anything much. _ Frak _. She was really hoping to sneak a peek at his face before surgery. 

“You’ve got this, Felicity. You’re the strongest one of all of us… And I will be here waiting to hold your hand the minute you get out of surgery.” Oliver reminds her and she swallows nervously.

“My clammy hands and I will be holding hands with you in no time.” She confirms with false bravado because really, she’s still scared. But Oliver believes in her. And that gives her a much needed boost as she’s wheeled out of their room and towards the surgery that will decide her future. 

\-----

Oliver’s restless without her. The room feels empty and he can’t seem to get comfortable. No matter what he does, his stomach twists and bubbles uneasily. He wants a white labcoat wearing doctor to come out and update him like they do on TV. But he isn’t family and if anyone is giving out updates, they’re not giving them out to him. 

But he’s thought ahead. He has a plan to keep himself occupied while she’s in surgery, and it involves surprising her after she wakes up. He hits the ‘Call Nurse’ button and waits. Sure enough, after a while, Barry comes in to check on him.

“Hey Oliver, what’s going on?”

“Is Doctor Snow involved in Felicity’s surgery right now?”

“Umm no, not as far as I’m aware.” 

“Can you get her for me? I need her help.” 

She’s his best bet. He needs a keen eye to put his plan together successfully and quite frankly, Oliver doesn’t have a lot of confidence that bumbling Barry can pull it off, no matter how well intentioned he may be. 

In short order, Caitlin Snow finds her way back to Room 320 and Oliver quickly loops her in on his plan.

“Alright, so Felicity’s going to be in a hard neck cast for a few months, right? And at least for a while, she won’t be able to move very much. So I want to decorate the ceiling above her bed, just so she has something to look at other than the ceiling tiles.” Oliver explains and he can hear the enthusiasm in Caitlin’s voice as she reacts.

“Oliver that’s… incredibly sweet and thoughtful. How can I help?” 

“Well, I need you to be my eyes… And also my hands and feet. I can’t walk over there to hang anything up for her and I also can’t see what I’d be putting up so I was hoping…”

“You want me to help you pick the right things out?” 

“Yes. Exactly. I’m told there’s a coffee cart that sells magazines downstairs… I’ve got cash in my wallet, if you could go buy some for me?” 

It’s a group effort, but it comes together nicely. Or, so Caitlin tells him. She sends Barry down to get the magazines while she secures a ladder from the maintenance closet. In short order, both the nurse and doctor are flipping through magazine pages, calling out to Oliver what pictures they encounter. 

Any and all fuzzy animals get the automatic green light, with the sole exception of kangaroos, since they freak Felicity out. A National Geographic proves to be a treasure trove of pictures of beautiful locations - Aruba and Bali make for a ‘fun tropical vibe’ according to Caitlin. Ads for coffee and wine also get some ceiling space because Oliver knows how much she likes both of those things. A quick phone call to Iris (Felicity’s emergency contact and therefore, sort of okay to call in regards to this) by Caitlin yields personal photos that Iris texts over featuring Felicity with her friends. These are quickly printed and added to the growing collection on the ceiling. 

He’s tempted to include a picture of himself, but that seems self serving, so he doesn’t. 

As the trio works on finishing up Oliver’s plan, Caitlin begins to make idle conversation as she flips through the magazine pages. 

“So Oliver… You and Felicity seem pretty close.” 

“We are. She’s become one of my closest friends - and I don’t mean ‘in here’, I mean, she’s one of my best friends _ period _. She’s a good person and a good friend.”

“What is it about her that you like so much?” Caitlin inquires and Oliver pauses to give this some thought, not bothering to wonder why Caitlin wants to know. Honestly? He really likes talking to Felicity, but if he can’t talk _ to _ her, then talking _ about _her is the next best thing. 

“Felicity is… she’s got more compassion for the people around her than anyone I’ve ever met... And her kindness is… it’s off the charts. And she’s so smart... I know I’m recovering from a brain injury so I might seem like a questionable source... but her intelligence is mind boggling.” 

“Mhmm…” Caitlin murmurs encouragingly and Oliver doesn’t need any encouragement to keep going. He could fill books with how incredible Felicity Megan Smoak is.

“She’s got wit, y’know? I mean, she’s seriously got one of the most incredible senses of humor... And she’s quirky. I like that. And her babbling? Pretty much the greatest thing ever... don’t let her tell you otherwise. And she just… she trusts me. That means a lot to me. Trust… trust doesn’t come easily to me. So I treasure hers. And she’s… _ so generous _. How many people would put the needs of a stranger above the needs of their own? Not many... But Felicity has done just that since we met.” 

He keeps talking as they finish up their project. He still pauses and searches for words here and there, but talking is easier than it was; he’s gotten a lot of practice with Felicity, after all. What Oliver doesn’t learn until later is that Caitlin has written some of Oliver’s favorite descriptive words of Felicity in large calligraphy letters, calling attention to some of her greatest attributes. “KINDNESS” is nestled between pictures of puppies, “WIT” goes near the coffee ad, and “INTELLIGENCE” is amidst the pictures of sunsets in Bali and beaches in Aruba. “TRUST” and “GENEROSITY” are amidst the pictures Iris sent over.

He’s a little embarrassed when Caitlin tells him what she’s done but he lets her do it all the same. Felicity should know how wonderful she is. This is about helping her in her recovery, after all. It’s not about protecting his pride. His pride doesn’t matter a lick compared with Felicity’s recovery. He’ll do anything, no matter how embarrassing, if it helps her get better. 

When Caitlin leaves after the ceiling is plastered with pictures, she assures Oliver that it looks great. 

“Felicity will love it.” She guarantees him and Oliver smiles. He hopes she does. She deserves something nicer to look at than a plain ol’ ceiling. 

\-----

It is a short eternity later before her surgery finishes up. 

He’s beside himself when they finally wheel her back in. And it matters little that he can’t see. He can tell from the voices of the doctors that it’s been a hard surgery. Despite this though, he thinks he detects a ray of hope in Doctor Schwartz’s voice. It takes some serious pleading, but Oliver manages to convince her to let him sit in a wheelchair at Felicity’s bedside so he can hold her hand. 

“No jostling her though. I mean it, Oliver. Her spine is still vulnerable and we have to do everything we can to protect it. She’s still going to be extremely restricted in her movement for at least a few days.” 

“I will only hold her hand. I won’t jostle the rest of her. Scout’s honor.” He neglects to mention that he was never a scout, but the sentiment is there just the same. He’s taking this seriously. He won’t do a thing to hurt her chances of recovery but he is adamant that he _ must _be allowed to hold her hand. 

He’s promised her as much, hasn’t he? He has to come through for her. 

Eventually, he’s helped into a wheelchair by Barry and Doctor Raymond and then wheeled to her bedside. He’s given a stern lecture about calling for assistance as soon as she wakes up and that he must request help to get back to bed.

And then, Doctor Raymond helps guide Oliver’s hand towards hers. Oliver hopes Doctor Raymond doesn’t notice how Oliver’s hands are shaking and call the whole thing off. He can’t help how he trembles though. Despite the high stakes that await once Felicity awakens, Oliver can’t help but be selfishly excited.

This is the closest they’ve ever been. And he’s about to touch her for the very first time. 

He learns that her hands are incredibly soft. When Doctor Raymond helps guide Oliver’s good hand to one of Felicity’s, he can hardly believe it when he feels the weight of her hand in his. Her hands are so… _ small _. His fingers run lightly across hers in wonderment, and he marvels at how delicate her knuckles are, how fine the bones that make up her hand. 

Without his eyes, Oliver uses his fingers to commit her hand to memory. His fingers trace across the lines that criss cross her palm. The pads of his fingers circle the smooth planes of her nails and he grins as he realizes she’s wearing nail polish that’s chipped just a little on her ring finger. 

Eventually, his hand falls still and he simply holds her hand as he waits and prays that she’ll wake up soon. 

It takes a while. Longer than he’d like. But eventually, her breathing begins to change. And after a time, he hears one of his favorite sounds in the whole wide world. 

“Oliver?”

He sucks in a breath because _ wow _. He really does love that sound. It takes him a moment to realize she’s uncertain - after all, she’s never seen his face before so she has no way of knowing if this is him or not. 

“I told you I’d be here holding your hand when you woke up.” This time, when he smiles, he knows she can see it and somehow, that makes all the difference.

“...You’re holding my hand.” She’s groggy and confused but he can hear the stirrings of happiness in her voice. “I’m alive and I’m awake… and you’re holding my hand!” 

It boggles his mind that she can say it so happily, as if holding his hand is in the same league of ‘good’ as her having survived surgery. But from her tone, these are equally joyous revelations. 

“D-Did it… Did the surgery go well?” She asks quietly and he gives her hand a little squeeze, even though he’s uncertain if she can feel it or not.

“I don’t know. But there’s one way to find out.” 

Gingerly, he lowers his face to her hand and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. But this does not garner the response he’d hoped for - instead, he hears a quiet sound of fear.

“Oliver I… I couldn’t feel that. And I can’t feel your hand.” She confesses worriedly and Oliver has to try to bite back his own fear as he scrabbles blindly for the ‘Call Nurse’ button and presses it firmly with his injured hand. 

“That’s alright. I’m sure it takes time before they know if the surgery was a success or not. All the drugs and things probably just need to wear off.” He tries to comfort her, even as his own heart races. All the while, he just keeps holding her hand as they wait for the doctors. 

“Oliver,” her voice is pleading and there’s so much fear it kills him a little, “no matter what… Please… _ please _ don’t let go.” 

\-----

The news isn’t exactly bad, but it isn’t exactly good either. Apparently, it will take time to see if the surgery was a success or not - for now, the pain meds coupled with the nerve block she had during surgery and the post-op swelling mean that she won’t be feeling much of anything for a while. 

If it was a success though, their first indication will likely be when she starts feeling intense pain from the site of her bone graft on her hip, or radiating, fiery pain in her extremities. Apparently that’s normal, though Oliver doesn’t see how the doctors can be so sanguine as they discuss it. 

On the bright side, they’ve equipped Felicity with a device that will allow her to self manage her pain, if and when she starts to feel anything. All she has to do is click a button and the machine will send pain meds into her body via her IV. It won’t allow her to overdose, the doctors explain, so there’s no fear of her taking too much. So if she’s in pain - which the doctors assure, she _ will _ be if the surgery worked as they hope - she should hit the button until she’s comfortable. 

Of course, that's assuming she will be able to move her hand to click the button at all. 

Otherwise, Felicity passes her post-op assessment with flying colors. The doctors are encouraged by the fact that she’s breathing better and her heart rate is more stable, so there’s cause to be hopeful. 

Still, it’s obvious she wants to know for better or worse, what the outcome of her gamble will be. All Oliver can do is keep holding her hand and talking to her once the doctors leave and they’re alone again. But to his surprise, she’s calmer than he expects her to be.

“Oliver?”

“Felicity?”

“I can see your face. I haven’t seen your face before today.” 

He chuckles, feeling a little off balance for the first time in the entire time they’ve known each other. Before, they were on a semi-level playing field, neither of them knowing what the other looked like. Now, she can see him and he still can’t see her. Somehow, this makes him feel self conscious in the extreme.

“I hear my face is a little worse for wear these days. Sorry if I gave you a fright looking at it.” He apologizes, hoping that she isn’t completely scared off by his appearance. Instead, she surprises him.

“Remember how when I promised you a kiss, I said if you weren’t attractive, I could kiss you on your cheek instead?”

“Vividly.” 

“...I’m not going to need to kiss you on the cheek, Oliver.” 

At this point, he should expect to be surprised by her, but she keeps wowing him and honestly, he doesn’t want her to ever stop. 

“My bruised face and I will take that as a compliment - and as a promise that you’re going to get better.” He points out tenderly and she sighs contentedly. 

“I’m trying, believe me.” There’s a heartbeat’s pause and then she adds for good measure. “If I didn’t have enough incentive before though, trust me… I do now thanks to you and your handsome mug.” 

He stays with her for a long time and he takes great joy in being at her side as she delights in perusing the pictures he’s stuck on the ceiling with Caitlin and Barry’s help. He even falls asleep at her side after she dozes off and he only leaves when Barry, coming to take their vitals, finds them both asleep thusly, and shoos him back to his own bed to rest. 

Eventually though, Oliver brings up the touchy subject that, up to this point, he’s been avoiding, but which he knows must be discussed, even if Felicity finds it upsetting. 

“Felicity… Does your mom know? ...About the accident, or your surgery?” His voice is hushed, tentative; he knows how touchy a subject this is for her, just based on what he’s heard her telling the medical staff. 

“Oliver, my mom will freak. Trust me - you don’t know her, but Donna Smoak has no chill even on a good day. And we don’t even know how well the surgery worked - or didn’t - yet. I just want to wait to tell her until I know - one way or the other. I don’t want her to worry until we know for sure that I _ am _paralyzed - or not.” 

“Felicity… She’s your mom. And from the sounds of it, she’s the kind of parent who worries about the wellbeing of her daughter. Don’t you think she’d want to be here for you to make things easier on you?”

There’s silence and he can practically feel her mulling over his words. She’s still resistant though, of that much he’s certain. Swallowing down his own emotions, Oliver takes up a new strategy.

“If my dad was still alive, I’d want to tell him. I’d want him here. Even if it scared the hell out of him to see me like this.” 

There’s the quiet sound of her exhaling through her mouth. And then:

“I’ll need someone to get me my phone.” 

“Do you know where it is?” 

“I’m not exactly burning up my data plan with it these days. I don’t think I’ve seen it since I got here.” 

“How about I call it?” 

“How do you mean?”

“Felicity, you’re basically a genius. Don’t you know what it sounds like when a blind guy asks for your phone number?” 

Her snort of amusement is worth Oliver’s weight in gold and then some. 

“You’re on bedrest, remember? Even if I give you my number, you aren’t allowed out of bed to go grab it.” She’s kind enough not to mention that, even if she gives him her number, he can’t exactly dial it into his phone, considering he can’t _ see _his phone to know if he’s dialing the right number or not.

“I think you’re just looking for an out so you don’t have to give me your number.” Another little snort. He’s feeling tongue and cheek today but it’s working - she’s actually going to call her mother and tell her about the accident and the subsequent surgery. 

A quick page of the nurse station yields Nurse Barry, who promptly inputs Felicity’s number into Oliver’s phone (_ Yes! He’s got her number now! _) and calls it to help them locate Felicity’s phone. In short order, Barry’s got it and, at Felicity’s direction, he’s able to unlock it and pull up her mother (Donna)’s contact screen. 

“Oliver… I can’t hold the phone to my ear.” She whispers and he can practically hear the tears she’s holding back. Felicity, the technological titan, can’t even hold a phone. The weight of that knowledge crushes her; he can hear it in the subtle quaver to her voice. “C-Can I… Can I just leave my phone on speaker or will that bother you?” 

“Felicity, do whatever you need to do. You won’t be bothering me.” 

“It’s just, my mom can be a little much and sometimes she can be really _ shrill _ and I don’t want to give you a headache, having to listen to us yammer-”

“Call her and leave it on speaker. I’ll be fine.” 

He says it firmly, with an authority he ordinarily doesn’t feel. But Felicity needs to talk to her mother about the accident and the potential future she’s staring down. And her mother needs to know that her child is in pain and needs her - no matter how much Felicity tries to pretend that she’s fine. She’s not. She needs support. More than just the support of her random neighbor in this shared hospital space. Even if she’s now referring to said neighbor as her ‘best friend’. But he digresses.

“Thank you, Oliver.” 

He tells himself he won’t listen in; eavesdropping isn’t flattering, no matter the circumstances. It’s just that, he can’t very well get up and go anywhere. She wasn’t wrong when she said he was on bedrest, and for good reason. He couldn’t see a double decker bus coming at him, let alone a gurney pelting down the hallway. It’s not safe for him to be wandering around blindly. And he’s still too unsteady to even begin to attempt leaving the room - the crush injuries to his legs are no joke, as his earlier fall has reminded him. 

So he’ll have to stay. And try to distract himself so as not to eavesdrop. 

“Ready?” Barry asks quietly and Oliver waits with bated breath for her response.

“Yeah. Thanks Barry.” Felicity murmurs. There’s a moment’s silence and then Oliver hears the sound of a dial tone on speaker before Barry shuffles quickly out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

The line rings. Once. Twice. On the third ring, however, someone answers and a bubbly voice on the other end squeals out and echoes through the room.

“Baby girl hi! How are you?!” The voice that must belong to Felicity’s mom is _ gushing _ and the sound of her voice practically oozes love and adoration and a million positive emotions. It’s not what he expected but somehow, he’s utterly smitten with Donna for the simple fact that she seems so overjoyed to be getting a call from her daughter. 

To Felicity’s credit, she gives a single low, hoarse laugh before she attempts any sort of response. 

“Hi Mom,” she exhales, and Oliver can hear Felicity’s nerves making her voice tremulous, “are you busy right now?” 

“Not too busy for my best girl! What’s up, Sweetie?” 

“I need to tell you something, Mom. A-And it’s not going to be easy to hear. Can you sit down?” 

“Baby, you’re scaring me.” Donna’s tone has changed dramatically; the effusive joy has drained away, leaving a serious note of dread.

“I don’t mean to Mom, but this isn’t a fun phone call.” Felicity chokes out, her breathing ragged and harsh. Oliver can hear her fighting to regulate her breaths and though he doesn’t want to interrupt, he feels compelled to intervene.

“Hey. You’re okay. You’ve got this. Breathe with me,” he instructs her quietly from his side of the room, “-breathe in through your nose,” he inhales sharply, “-and out through your mouth.” He exhales slowly and he hears her doing the same thing from her side of the room. _ Good _.

“Felicity, whose voice was that?” Donna’s voice has gone flat beneath the weight of her worry.

“That was Oliver. He’s a friend of mine. He’s umm… he’s my neighbor here in the hospital.” 

“The hospital?!” Donna squeaks worriedly and Felicity sighs.

“Yeah Mom… I ah… I was in an accident. It was a hit and run. And it was pretty bad…” Felicity takes another careful round of breathing to gather herself before she continues. “I broke my neck, Mom. And the doctors are doing everything they can but I had surgery to try and piece my spine back together and we don’t know how well it worked just yet. I-It’s possible I may be paralyzed from the neck down-”

Donna’s strangled cry of grief is difficult to listen to and Oliver’s heart goes out to Felicity’s mother. It’s hard for Oliver to contemplate Felicity losing control of her body below her neck, and he barely knows her. How much harder must it be for a parent to have your child go through such an ordeal? 

“-but there’s also hope that the surgery will prevent that from happening. We just… we don’t know yet. But we should, soon. In the next few hours or days, maybe.”

“Oh Felicity!” Donna cries at last and Oliver hears the newest machine to accumulate near Felicity beep - her pain management machine. She must have hit the button to signal she needed a small dose of her meds. Internally, Oliver winces; it’s easy to forget just how much pain Felicity is in for - she isn’t one to complain. But within the last twenty four hours, the doctors made an incision at her hip, cut away a piece of bone, then cut open the back of her neck to fix the bone graft to her spine with wire and screws. The recovery time for the hip bone graft alone is six months and the recovery time for her spine is on the scale of six to eight months or more. To say that Felicity has a long, painful road ahead of her is not an incorrect statement. 

Oliver realizes he’s gotten off track with his thoughts and he’s missed some of the conversation. The two are arguing over Donna wanting to come out here to be with Felicity. Felicity doesn’t want her mother to drop everything to be here; Donna doesn’t want Felicity to go through this without her. But Oliver is no longer wrapped up in the conversation because he’s just had the most joyous realization.

Felicity hit the button for her pain meds.

Which means Felicity is feeling pain.

Which means Felicity is _ feeling _.

And what’s more? She’s moved her hand in order to hit the button.Which means not only does she have sensation below her neck - she also has some control of her extremities.

He wants to shout out in joy, but he doesn’t want to interrupt mother and daughter unless he’s absolutely positive, and there’s a chance he might have misheard. Maybe it _ wasn’t _ her pain management machine.

But he’s 98% certain that it was. 

“Mom, you don’t have to rush out here. I promise, I’m doing okay. Or at least, as okay as can be expected, all things considered.” 

“Felicity, you are facing something extremely difficult! I’m not going to let you go through this alone!” 

There’s a beat of silence and then Felicity answers. When she does, Oliver has no difficulty picking up on the sweet, tender note of her voice that makes his heart beat in a pleasantly erratic way.

“I’m not alone, Mom… I have Oliver.” 

The conversation continues a little while longer but Felicity begins to tire quickly. They leave off with Donna saying she’ll be there within the week, after making Felicity swear up and down to call her as often as she needs but at least daily to update her until she can make it out there. Donna fusses over her daughter for another minute and finally, Felicity’s fatigue begins to become so apparent that even over the phone, her mother picks up on it.

“Felicity, go get some rest. I am going to be there in no time but until then, you tell this Oliver guy to take care of my baby girl, alright?”

Felicity chuckles quietly and Oliver can’t help but grin.

“Tell her it’d be my honor to do so.” Oliver mutters in an undertone and he hears Felicity chortle.

“Oliver says it’s his honor to look out for me.” 

“Well good, I have a feeling I’m gonna like him,” Donna breathes, pausing for a moment as she struggles to say goodbye to her daughter, “… I love you, Felicity.” 

“I love you too, Mom.” 

“I’ll see you real soon, okay sweetie? Hang in there. I’m gonna be there with you real soon. Promise.” 

“I will. Thanks Mom.” 

“Bye, Baby.” 

“Bye Mom.”

The phone beeps as the call ends and the two are left in relative silence, with just the sound of their machines and their breathing to occupy them. He doesn’t want to press for conversation, even though he’s dying to know if what he heard was right - Felicity really is sounding completely spent - but Felicity is the first to make a move.

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“Everything. But especially for making me call her. I was afraid calling her would make it real. But she needed to know. You were right.” 

“What’s the expression? ‘Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn sometimes’?” 

Her laughter sounds like smooth stones rubbing against each other; there’s a quiet, rough note to it that’s also somehow so pleasing to his ears. 

“Oliver?”

“Felicity?”

“I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Me too.” 

He waits for what seems like a lifetime but which is probably no more than the span of a heartbeat. He wants to know - but more importantly, he needs _ her _to know, if she hasn’t realized already.

“Felicity?”

“Oliver?” 

“During your call with your Mom… I heard a machine beep and it sounded different. Was that… was that your pain management machine?” 

She hums a simple “Mhmm” back at him and he can tell, she’s drifting quickly towards sleep.

“Yeah… My hip was _ really _ hurting so I pressed the button. It helped; I feel better now.” She sighs sleepily and Oliver feels a smile race across his lips. 

“Felicity… did you hear what you just said?” He inquires, his excitement growing. There’s a pause and then he hears her sharp inhale.

“My hip _ hurt _!” She exclaims joyously, the sleepiness falling away from her voice and Oliver is beaming across the way.

“And you _ pressed the button! _” 

“The surgery… Oliver! The surgery _ worked _!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So due to a few scenes running longer than I originally anticipated, and because of the fact that I just couldn't resist including a few OTHER scenes as I kept working, this is going to be extended! Right now I think this will end up being four chapters but at this point, who knows? These two crazy kids keep giving me all kinds of ideas beyond what I had initially intended, and I'm just going to let the story unfold as it may. So whether it ends up being four chapters or four hundred (*it will not be four hundred I swear), thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy! :)

When the doctors do their rounds the next morning, the prognosis for Felicity is guarded, but hopeful. She has sensation coming back to her; at first it’s just her hands and arms but within another few hours, she’s wiggling her toes and giggling like a little girl. She must remain mostly still in her bed, but she’s allowed to move her hands and arms around a bit - she can hit the ‘Call Nurse’ button all on her own, or the button that triggers her machine to dispense her pain medication, she can dial her cell phone, or she can turn on the TV with the remote control. But best of all? 

She can hold the hand of her blind neighbor. It’s actually the first thing she asks for after the doctors clear her to move a bit - last time, she argues, only half counted because she couldn’t feel his hands. Now that she’s regained feeling in her extremities, it’s imperative that she hold his hand in hers and actually _ feel it_. 

Her insistence makes his chest puff out a bit; he can’t recall anyone ever being _ this _excited about holding his hand. And he, in turn, has never been so keen on wrapping his fingers between someone else’s but it’s all he can focus on now.

The next morning, he sweet talks the staff into letting him spend at least a little time at her bedside so that they can hold hands and speak face to face. And while Oliver still can’t see a lick, being so close to her and holding her hands now that she has sensation back in them brings fresh delights. 

Felicity runs perpetually cold. Her fingers are cool to the touch and her skin will prickle into goosebumps at the slightest breeze from the air vents overhead. Because of this, she’s snuggled beneath as many layers of hospital blankets as she can get. Oliver, who runs perpetually hot, is all too happy to part with his blankets for the noble cause of keeping Felicity warm.

She loves breath mints; she started clamoring for them as soon as the doctors give her the okay to move her hands and arms a bit. Oliver discreetly flags down Barry and asks him to pick her up a few boxes from the gift shop. When Oliver sits in his wheelchair at her bedside later that day, her breath is awash in peppermint and spearmint. 

Best of all? Felicity has the most wonderful, gentle touch of any person he’s ever known. Her fingers draw little circles on the back of his hand at times, and other times she weaves them smoothly between his own fingers as neatly as can be. He derives no shortage of joy and wonder from feeling her hands move in his; there’s such happiness in each tiny motion and it translates in her touch. 

They invent a new game to whittle away the hours: he lays his hand flat before her hand and she draws on his palm with her fingers. Sometimes she spells words and he has to guess the letters to spell them out; a correct guess earns him a tap on his wrist and a new word is signaled by her brushing her palm against his. Other times she lays her palm open for him and he clumsily writes messages to her so that she can take a turn at guessing. Initially, he’s better at guessing the letters than she is. But as she regains more sensation and control through her body, Felicity begins to master the game and rarely messes up a letter or word. 

“Umm… that’s a ‘Y’?” she guesses hopefully, exhaling happily when he taps her wrist to signal that she was correct. 

“O!” _ Another tap_. She was right; he’s learned to be very clear when writing on her palm, to help differentiate between ‘O’ and ‘C’ or ‘O’ and ‘D’. Those letters caused them a little confusion at first, but they’ve fallen into the hang of writing to one another. 

“U?” He taps her wrist. Right again. With a gentle touch, Oliver passes his palm over hers to signal a new word. This goes on for a while. 

A-R-E is spelled next, followed by G-O-I-N-G, and T-O, and W-A-L-K, and finally, A-G-A-I-N. 

He pauses, having completed the phrase he set out to spell. Her fingers twine wordlessly in his and he can hear the change in her breathing; he’s made her emotional, though that wasn’t his intention. 

“I’ll take ‘You are going to walk again’ for five hundred, Alex!” she teases, though her voice is a little distorted by the mixture of gratitude and sorrow swirling below the surface. 

“What is, you are correct,” Oliver answers back gently, his fingers giving hers a supportive squeeze.

“Thank you… I really can’t thank you enough for always being at my side as my biggest cheerleader.” 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be... You’re gonna beat this, Smoak,” he encourages her quietly, tapping her wrist once as a playful reminder that he’s right. She _ will _walk again. He believes in her. And if believing is worth anything, the force of his belief will see her through. 

The game is a great exercise in regaining sensation and function for Felicity; for Oliver, it’s a great exercise for his beleaguered brain. He has to think about each word being spelled and he must remember the words and letters as the game progresses, both practices which stretch his mental faculties and ultimately, strengthen them. Each game wears him out mentally but at the same time, it helps his cognitive recovery. 

Perhaps more importantly in Oliver’s opinion though, the game is an excellent excuse for him to soak up her touch. He marvels at how the simple sensation of her finger on his palm is able to bring his whole body online in a way he’s never experienced before. His whole being is finely attuned to her touch and over the next few days, whenever the doctors come in and insist on him spending time in his own bed, he is acutely aware of the absence of her clever fingers in his, spelling words or drawing shapes, or sometimes simply holding his in quiet camaraderie.

They pick back up their playful, encouraging banter with a newfound lightness that belies their mutual hopefulness. She just might walk again and he just might see again; despite the long roads to recovery before them, they’re both optimistic due in no small part to the strength they draw from each other. 

They’re in the middle of their game on the second day after Felicity’s surgery when a tentative knock at the door draws both their attention. Oliver cranes his neck to listen, though he keeps his hand in Felicity’s; they’re in the middle of a sentence. Through their communication game, he has already asked her what she wants for lunch. Felicity has been about to answer him when the knock interrupts them. 

“I-I’m sorry… Am I interrupting something?” 

Thea’s voice sounds uncertain and Oliver can tell she’s nervous from the unusual pitch of her voice. No small wonder; the last time she saw him, he was getting sedated after throwing a fit over having been moved. She’s understandably wary of what his reaction to her appearance now will be but his sister has nothing to fear. Oliver isn’t mad at her for what happened (though truthfully, he _ is _still a bit miffed with his mother). 

Against his palm, Oliver feels Felicity’s finger suddenly draw out the shape of a question mark and he smiles. Time for two of the most important women in his life to meet. He can’t help the small nervous twinge that coils in his stomach.

He feels like he’s brought a girlfriend home to meet the family. 

“Come on in, Thea,” Oliver greets his sister warmly, smiling as he cocks his head in her direction while keeping his hand against Felicity’s. “Felicity, I’d like for you to meet my little sister, Thea. Thea, this is my friend Felicity. She’s not able to move much, so do me a favor and come over here so she can get a look at you.” 

Thea takes small, nervous steps as she approaches Felicity from Oliver’s side of the bed and when she murmurs a soft ‘Hi there’, her voice has the faintest quiver to it. 

“It’s so great to meet you! Your brother has seriously saved my skin in here,” Felicity’s effusive welcome must take Thea by surprise because when she speaks again, Oliver can hear it in her voice. 

“Has he now? Well that’s interesting. Ollie wasn’t much of the nurturing type before the accident. Maybe the doctors shook something loose in there, big bro,” Thea remarks as she gently taps the side of Oliver’s head. And he can tell, she’s _ trying_. And that means the world to him. 

“Very funny,” Oliver grunts halfheartedly, unable to even pretend to be grumpy because even as Thea has teased him, Felicity has drawn a smiley face on his palm. Or at least, what he _ thinks _is a smiley face. And really, how can a person be mad if they’ve got Felicity Smoak drawing smiley faces on their hand? 

It’s not possible. 

“Okay Thea, I respect that you’re here to visit your brother, but should you have _ any _ desire to fill me in on all your best Oliver stories before you leave, I would be _ delighted _ to listen,” Felicity remarks and Oliver can practically _ hear _the smirk in her voice. 

“Absolutely not-” Oliver begins, only to be talked over by Thea. 

“Are you kidding!? Why wait? I can fill you in now,” Thea remarks in a wickedly amused voice that makes Oliver groan.

“Why do I feel like I’m really not going to enjoy these stories?” 

“Oh come on now, Ollie. What’s not to love about me retelling the story of how you got stage fright during your kindergarten graduation performance and threw up on your teacher on stage?”

“He didn’t!”

“He did,” Thea confirms, entirely too amused for Oliver’s liking, “none of the teachers wanted to be on stage with him for any graduation after that.” 

“Yeah, I definitely don’t like this,” Oliver grouses in a mock miffed tone. It’s totally faked though; Felicity has drawn a little heart against his hand as she groans sympathetically at him.

“Oh you poor thing! That must have been so embarrassing!” 

“It was,” Thea confirms, making Oliver yelp.

“You weren't even born yet!”

“I’ve seen the video footage. That’s good enough.” 

“It’s on _ video_?!” Felicity gasps and Oliver groans loudly. “Oh my gosh… I think I’ll need to see this. For purely scientific reasons. I can tell you whether or not it’s embarrassing,” Felicity teases and if it’s possible for a voice to sound like a wink, hers does in that moment and it makes Oliver grin.

“For purely scientific reasons, huh?” 

“I am nothing if not impartial,” Felicity retorts smartly. 

“You know, I think the videos got lost, oddly enough,” Oliver lies jokingly. He’s pleasantly surprised by how well things are going and how easy the rapport is between Felicity and Thea. 

That’s when a familiar voice clears its throat from the doorway, drawing his attention and instantly setting him a little on edge.

“As I recall, dear, those home videos are decidedly _ not _lost,” sniffs his mother from the entrance of the room. The trio fall instantly silent and it’s all Oliver can do not to turn pointedly away from her. 

After the pause lengthens and begins to grow uncomfortable, he can hear his mother shifting her weight and then she finally speaks up.

“May I come in?” 

Oliver feels Felicity’s finger move against his palm and he’s silent as he focuses on her message. She writes in rapid succession, and though he doesn’t guess aloud the letters, he’s confident enough in what she’s spelled.

_ M-O-M-? _

He taps her wrist once and then clears his throat as his fingers enclose around Felicity’s hand for support. 

“Sure. Thea was just regaling Felicity with tales of my childhood, much to her delight,” Oliver explains, the tension coiling in his chest. He’s still angry with his mother - _ extremely _angry, actually. And her presence here has him feeling strangely protective of Felicity too, as though his mother will try to rip her away from him again. 

No. Not even his mother would make that mistake twice. 

The steady _ tap tap _of his mother’s heel clad feet on the tile floor signals her approach. Felicity’s thumb runs soothingly across Oliver’s knuckles as he clutches her hand tightly. 

“Well, if we’re sharing Oliver stories, I do hope Thea hasn’t neglected to mention the story of Oliver’s stuffed animal frog that he carried around everywhere he went until the age of five,” Moira remarks as she approaches the group where they are clustered around Felicity’s bed. Oliver can sense her hovering at his side but he doesn’t make a move towards her. He knows he’s acting cold and perhaps that’s not fair, but he hasn’t forgotten what happened last time and he’s still awaiting an apology for it. 

Instead, Felicity is the one to smooth things over, surprisingly enough.

“Please tell me this frog had a name. And that there are pictures. I really need there to be pictures,” Felicity doesn’t have to force the delight that’s in her voice - it’s genuine - but beneath it, Oliver hears the faintest bit of strain. No small wonder - he knows that Felicity must have suffered in his absence at least as much as he suffered in hers during their brief time apart. 

“Oh, Oliver wasn’t terribly original, he just called him Jeremiah. But there was a time he refused to go by Oliver and instead insisted on being called by his middle name. So they were Jeremiah and Jonas the bullfrogs,” Moira elaborates and Oliver hears the quiet intake of breath as Felicity reacts to this news.

“I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me, Oliver,” Felicity teases gently, giving his hand a little shake with her own, “Jeremiah and Jonas the bullfrog would be a really great addition to my ceiling. I’m just saying.” 

Despite himself, Oliver smiles.

“I don’t know about that.” 

“I do. I need at least _ a _picture of you. You’re absent from the ceiling. How can my best friend not be pictured on my get well wall? So, either you pony up with a photo of you and the frog, or I ask your Mom or Thea to get me another, equally adorable picture. Your call.” 

There’s a pause and then Felicity inhales softly, realizing she’s referred to Moira as his mother without having been introduced. Oliver can feel the way her body tenses through the grip he has on her hand and just like that, she’s off on a nervous ramble.

“You are his Mom, right? I mean, you’re Mrs. Queen, right?” Felicity chokes out uneasily. There’s a dry laugh from beside Oliver.

“Yes, I’m Oliver’s wicked mother who tried to have his room moved. No doubt you’ve heard all manner of _ wonderful _ stories about me by now,” Moira remarks sarcastically and Oliver curls his toes angrily at the flippant way she talks about the attempted room change. It’s enough to make his blood boil, even now. 

“I haven’t - heard stories about you, that is. Wonderful or otherwise. But it seemed safe to assume that if Thea was here, you might be too…” Felicity trails off, sucking in a breath to steady herself, with minimal success. “Anyway, I’m Felicity, Oliver’s neighbor with the broken spine,” Felicity introduces herself. “Oliver has been a real lifesaver. I can’t thank you enough for him.” 

Somehow, this babbling of Felicity’s does the trick; Oliver can hear a little of the terseness leaving his mother’s voice as she speaks again. 

“Well… I’m certainly glad that he has someone to help him through his recovery and from what I’ve heard, you have done a splendid job of just that. So I suppose _ I _ should be thanking _ you_.” 

It’s not an apology and it’s not recognition enough of just how much Felicity has done for Oliver during his time here. But it’s a start. And given the woman that his mother is? It’s probably the most he can ask for right now. 

“Now, regarding those pictures - I’m certain we could make arrangements to have some of the family photo albums brought by,” Moira offers and Oliver recognizes this for what it is - an olive branch. He’s just not sure if he wants to accept it just yet. 

Felicity is silent beside him, waiting for him to make the call on this one. 

“If Felicity wants to see, then by all means bring them over. Who am I to stop the three of you, hmm?” he sighs reluctantly, though there’s a playful note in his voice. And just like that, a little of the tension ebbs away. 

Thea leaps at the chance to direct the conversation to less troubled waters and offers to show Felicity some pictures of Oliver from her phone. Delighted, Felicity agrees, though her hand stays solidly with Oliver. The two are thick as thieves as they peruse Thea’s phone and, near as he can tell, Thea shows Felicity pictures of Oliver from more recent Halloween parties and the like. These are less entertaining but no less treasured, judging by Felicity’s reaction. Suddenly though, Oliver’s focus is torn away from Thea and Felicity’s bonding time when his mother taps lightly on his shoulder.

“May we… talk? Privately?” 

Felicity and Thea grow quiet suddenly, all pretense fading away. Oliver lets the question hang on the air until a gentle touch on his palm shakes him out of it.

_ D-O. I-T. _

Felicity is a kinder person than he is but grudgingly, he admits to himself that she’s right. If this entire hospitalization has taught him anything, it’s that life is short. Too short to harbor resentment and anger towards someone who he knows cares about him. 

Even if she has a poor way of showing it at times.

“You’ll have to push me, I’m not allowed to wheel myself around in this thing,” Oliver gestures towards the wheelchair he’s seated in. There’s a moment’s hesitation before he feels his mother come to stand behind him, her hands gripping the handles of the wheelchair.

“You two carry on. We’ll be back shortly,” Moira instructs in an even, guarded tone. Before his mother can move him though, Oliver takes Felicity’s hand and lifts it to his lips, pressing a goodbye kiss to it. 

“Take good care of her for me, Thea!” Oliver calls over his shoulder as his mother pushes him out of the room.

“Don’t worry, Ollie. Felicity and I are going to have a grand ol’ time reliving some of your finest childhood moments!” Thea shouts back and he groans, _ loudly_.

“I promise that no amount of childhood embarrassment will send me running,” Felicity adds on in a playful but genuine promise that warms Oliver’s cheeks. 

There truly is no scaring Felicity off. What’s there to be scared of, really? They’ve already been to hell and back together. A few embarrassing stories are nothing. 

As his mother wheels him from the room, Oliver’s skin prickles uncomfortably. Inside the room, he’s more comfortable with his blindness; he has Felicity as an anchor to make everything okay. Out here, in the world beyond? He’s lost.

There’s so much activity and noise, it’s hard to sift through the sounds to know what’s happening. In their room, he can focus in on subtle things - Felicity’s breathing, the sound of their machines, the footsteps approaching their room. Out here? He feels like a tidal wave of noise has engulfed him and it leaves him disoriented. 

There’s people passing by in every direction. There’s numerous conversations going on, phones ringing, machines beeping, equipment and beds and who knows what else being rolled by. Oliver feels his heart begin to pound nervously. He’s suddenly more acutely aware than ever that he can’t see a damn thing.

When something touches his shoulder, he nearly leaps out of his skin, only to realize belatedly that his mother has stopped pushing him and is now trying to get his attention. 

“Sorry… Sorry, I-... It’s a bit overwhelming, being out here,” Oliver apologizes, craning his head this way and that. He’s not sure where she’s standing until her hand grabs his. This time, he manages to restrain himself to just an exaggerated twitch in surprise, but the contact is still unexpected and harder to handle when the rest of his senses are so overloaded. 

“Oliver I… I recognize that I owe you an apology,” his mother begins and her tone is uneasy, even self conscious. That’s a new look for her. Or it would be, if he could see her. “I thought I was intervening on your behalf. I truly believed that moving you was in your best interests; if I had known how wrong that would prove to be, I would never have asked that you be relocated. I really am sorry.” 

He should be focused on her apology, on her taking responsibility for what she’s done. But Oliver is too disoriented by the openness of whatever place within the hospital she’s taken him to. The area feels large, _ too _ large, too open, too airy. He feels vulnerable and exposed and he is keenly aware of the fact that he can’t tell very well when someone or something is approaching him until they’re already almost upon him. There’s just too much _ noise _ to make any sense of it all. He’s on edge, waiting for something to happen, his whole body is like a tightly coiled spring and the tension within him is only growing greater the longer he’s out here.

His heart is still racing and his mother is still talking but she sounds as if she’s speaking to him from a distance. He can feel panic swallowing him up. He can’t see anything. He’s blind. He’s blind and a sitting duck and even as he dwells on this fact, he’s suddenly aware of the blood roaring in his ears. He can’t even hear his mother anymore when a sudden clatter from his right makes Oliver jump violently within his wheelchair. 

_ He’s back in the car. The impact rips the world apart as metal screeches and his father screams beside him. Pain explodes through him; the dashboard buckles inward, crushing his legs. His head has cracked roughly against something and it throbs. Even through his swimming vision though, he sees his father and the ghastly amount of blood running down his face, and the empty, expressionless eyes that were just moments ago so full of light. Through it all, the one constant is the bone deep, inescapable terror. _

He’s gasping for air and shaking; his body is bathed in sweat and he’s completely disoriented. Slowly, he comes back to himself and he’s aware of the dull, distant sound of voices speaking quietly nearby. 

“Mrs. Queen, your son has suffered a traumatic brain injury in a very shocking, distressing event. It’s highly likely that what he’s experiencing right now is a PTSD flashback. These episodes happen - the lunch trolley dropping those plates is probably what triggered it. We need to get him back to his room and calm him down though, because with his brain injury it’s imperative we keep his blood pressure down.” 

Doctor Schwartz? 

He’s suddenly aware of movement beside him and he flinches away from it instinctively. There’s a soft noise and then a familiar voice speaks to him.

“Oliver? Oliver, it’s me. Doctor Snow. Do you remember me?” He nods faintly. “I’m going to bring you back to your room, if that’s alright. Can I do that?” Another nod. “Excellent. Okay, I’m going to start moving your wheelchair now. Just hold on tight and we’ll get you back to your bed in just a minute.” 

“What does this mean for his recovery?” _ His mother_. He recognizes the voice. 

“It’s just another thing we’re going to have to monitor and work through. He’s been through a serious ordeal, Mrs. Queen. I just need you to understand that the Oliver who survived this accident may not be the same Oliver you knew before it. This experience… it will most likely stay with him forever. And I need you to brace yourself for how that may change things - for all of you.” 

Oliver feels exhausted. He’s still fuzzy on what all has happened and his racing heart and pounding head make for a debilitating duo. When Doctor Snow wheels him back into the room though, he doesn’t let her put him right to bed.

“Can I… Can you take me to Felicity first?” His voice sounds weak, even to his ears, and he hates it. Felicity has picked up on it too.

“Oliver?” There’s a rising note of concern in her voice as Doctor Snow kindly wheels him to Felicity’s bedside and instinctively, Oliver reaches out and feels for her hand until his fingers touch lightly on hers. Felicity doesn’t waste a second - her hand grips his tightly and her thumb passes reassuringly back and forth across his knuckles. “I’m here. You’re alright now. I’ve got you.” 

He exhales raggedly, focusing on her simple touch and allowing it to become his center. Bit by bit, he pulls the broken pieces of himself back into some semblance of ‘together’. All the while, she holds his hand, a quiet, constant source of strength. And it’s exactly what he needs; no questions, just her presence and her continued support as he tries to sort himself out. 

Finally, he gives a weak nod before he covers her hand with his injured one, sandwiching her palm between his.

“Thank you,” he breathes softly, “I don’t know what happened but… I got out there and I relived it all and-” here he shudders at the flashes of memory, “-and it was terrible.” 

She carefully uncoils her hand from between his and she eases his uninjured hand open so her finger can sketch a simple heart across his palm. 

“You’re back. You hear me? You’re back in our room. You’re safe. I am right here and I will still be right here when you wake up,” she whispers her fervent promise and it’s this knowledge that eases his burden the most.

Felicity is here. 

Without further commentary, Oliver nods and allows Doctor Snow to wheel him back to his bed. He struggles to make himself useful; he feels emotionally and physically spent and completely wrung out. When he settles against the pillows, he’s barely able to even keep his eyes open. 

He can hear the sound of Felicity and Thea murmuring for a moment and then his sister speaks to him as she slowly approaches his bed. 

“Hey you, I’m going to let you get some rest. Felicity has my number and she will call me if you guys need anything. I love you. Take it easy, okay? And let me know what you need.” She hesitates a moment and then she reaches a hand out to squeeze his before she leans in close to whisper in his ear. “Ollie, listen to me. Felicity? She’s a good one. Hold onto her tight, okay? She’ll take care of you.” 

She presses a soft kiss to his forehead and then, just like that, Thea is gone and very soon thereafter, Oliver succumbs to sleep. 

\-----

The next day (the third day after Felicity’s surgery, not that he’s keeping track), Oliver is seated at her bedside and they’re holding hands in contented silence. He’s mostly recovered from the previous day’s events, thanks in no small part to Felicity keeping vigil, talking to him when he needed to be talked to and letting him rest in silence when he needed rest. He feels much more like himself today and as such, he’s relatively at ease sitting at her bedside when he hears a vaguely familiar voice in the hallway outside. 

“Uh oh,” Felicity mutters and Oliver feels his whole body tense at the mere implication that something is amiss for her.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Brace yourself,” Felicity warns and before she can elaborate, there’s the sound of an exaggerated gasp from the doorway of their room. Oliver instinctively turns towards it, though he clearly can’t see who it is. At the same time, he feels Felicity’s hand tighten on his own, anchoring him firmly to her. 

“Oh my beautiful girl!” The voice shrieks in mingled pain and enthusiasm before a clatter of heels on tile tells him the person is sweeping quickly into their room. It takes a second, but eventually, it clicks in Oliver’s slow on the uptake brain. She’s a bit higher in pitch in person than she was on the phone.

Donna Smoak has arrived. 

If Donna has noticed him, she hasn’t given any outward indication of it. Oliver hears her as she goes swiftly to the other side of Felicity’s bed. She seems to jangle with every step - it sounds like she’s wearing a number of bangle bracelets, if he had to hazard a guess. 

“Mom? I...thought you were coming at the end of the week,” Felicity searches for words, sounding a little off balance. Even if she hadn’t told him already that her and her mother can sometimes be like water and oil, Oliver would already be picking up on this just from the difference in their approaches to each other. 

“Well I marched right into my boss’ office and I said that my baby girl needed me and I was absolutely going to take some time to be by her side and neither he nor wild horses could stop me!” Donna rushes to explain triumphantly, sighing from Felicity’s other side. Oliver feels her hand twitch in his and if Oliver had to guess, Donna’s presence has Felicity a little on edge; Felicity’s mother does radiate a sort of chaotic energy, albeit a well intentioned sort of chaotic. 

“You _ really _didn’t have to do that, Mom.” 

“Of course I did, sweetie! I’m your mother. Now, how is my favorite girl?”

He hears Felicity clear her throat once and her grip on his hand grows just a smidge tighter as she takes a breath. “Well, thanks to this guy? I’m hanging in there. I might even venture to say that I’m doing pretty well, all things considered.” 

At the reference to him, Oliver feels an inexplicable shift, as though Donna’s world has only just now expanded to include him. 

“Oh my gosh, you must be Oliver. You dear, sweet, wonderful man, you. Felicity has told me how you’ve helped her through all of this. I _ cannot _ thank you enough for taking care of my baby for me.” Her voice almost covers the _ click clack _ of her heels striking the floor until a sudden weight knocks into him and two thin little arms wrap around his frame in a tight, unexpected hug. 

“Mom! Go easy on him! He’s recovering from a head injury, the last thing he needs is you giving him whiplash!” Felicity scolds Donna, who reluctantly lets go of him, but not before she presses a loud kiss to the side of his face. 

“MWAH. Thank you, honey. I owe you big time. And so does Felicity, from the sounds of it.” 

“_Mother_!” Felicity hisses in sheer mortification and Oliver can only chuckle.

“Actually, if anyone owes anybody, _ I _ owe _ Felicity_,” Oliver explains smilingly, his face directed towards the spot where he thinks Donna is now standing, “she’s the only reason I’ve stayed sane through all of this. She’s my guardian angel.” 

“Well… isn’t that sweet,” Donna gushes coyly, her heels ticking softly on the floor as she scoots back to the other side of Felicity in a vain attempt at stealth, “_h__oney, he’s cute AND charming. You should lock that down._” 

“MOM! He’s blind, not deaf!” 

“Don’t worry, my legs are currently out of commission, so I’m not likely to go anywhere, locked down or not,” Oliver remarks teasingly, prompting Felicity to groan in embarrassment even as Donna makes a delighted little squeak. 

“He’s funny too! Talk about the total package,” Donna adds, making even less of an attempt to keep her voice low this time around. 

“I think the traumatic brain injury and...potential blindness disqualify me for ‘total package’ status. I think I’m more like a... discounted dinged good on clearance at this point,” Oliver explains with a wry sense of humor that makes Felicity tut in displeasure.

“Stop that, you are not. Even if you don’t get back to one hundred percent, you’re still a gem. If you don’t know that, allow me to inform you. You, Oliver Queen, are without a doubt, a dreamboat.” 

He’s too busy basking in the fact that she’s called him a dreamboat to argue with her.

“So, okay, I need you two to give me the rundown. What’s okay here? Because baby, I see that Oliver is holding your hand - can I hold your other one or is that a no-no? OH! What about a mani-pedi? Can you have a mani-pedi?”

\-----

The next four hours pass with a series of painful exchanges that have Felicity maxing out her pain management button. At least if she’s drugged up, she might not remember her mother recounting to Oliver in VIVID detail Felicity’s most mortifying teenage memories. (Although, Oliver is eating up the stories - he’s positively hanging on Donna’s every word, and asking questions to learn more about Felicity and her childhood. It might be cute if it wasn’t so embarrassing. Although objectively, she was equally as entranced learning about _ his _ childhood from Thea the day before, but that’s neither here nor there.) And if she’s in a drug induced haze, perhaps she won’t recall that her mother has dropped hints about as subtle as an atom bomb that Felicity is single and that Donna _ really _ wants grandkids and _ oh, don’t you and Oliver make a nice pair? _

But mostly, Felicity would like to erase the mental image of her mother planting a kiss on the side of Oliver’s face before Felicity has had the chance to do so. Now, her mother will always be able to claim that _ she _kissed Oliver first. 

It makes Felicity positively _ seethe_, even though she has no right to. Oliver’s not hers. She doesn’t have any claim to him aside from the fact that they’re self proclaimed mutual best friends and neighbors. Sadly, neither of those titles afford her kissing rights. And even though her recovery is progressing, kissing the way she’d like to kiss Oliver? That’s months away from now. 

Assuming he even wants to kiss her. He’s probably only going along with the kiss she’d promised him before out of pity for the little paralyzed girl next to him in the hospital. Because he’s a nice guy like that. But if their game of writing on and holding each other’s hands has shown her anything, it’s that she really likes touching him. And she’d like to touch more than just his hand. 

Instead, it’s her mother who’s getting to touch him. And Donna isn’t shy about it. Over the course of her visit, in addition to kissing the side of Oliver’s face, Felicity’s mother finds excuses to touch Oliver’s arm ('_Oh my, I see someone is no stranger to the gym!'_) and to lay her hand against his. She even runs her fingers through Oliver’s hair and offers to give him a haircut, citing a time she gave Felicity’s father a haircut as proof positive of her skills. 

Felicity loves her mother. Truly. But right now, she’d like to box Donna Smoak up and ship her off to Timbuktu. It doesn’t matter that she knows her mother isn’t trying to put the moves on Oliver (if anything, these are all her mother’s heartfelt attempts at wing woman-ing for her daughter). What matters in this moment is that Felicity positively _ yearns _ to interact with Oliver - she wants to touch his face, she wants to run _ her _ fingers through his hair, she wants to hold his hand and stroll along side by side with him on a walk, she wants to sign the cast on his arm, she wants to lay beside him in the same bed (and do _ other _things in a bed with him too, but that’s not something she can dwell on with her mother in the room).

And _ god_, does she want to kiss him. 

But instead, she’s getting to watch her mother physically interact with him without any real appreciation for how fracking lucky she is to be laying hands on the guy who has quite literally saved Felicity from herself through all of this. And honestly? It hurts. Felicity wants to be better again. She wants out of this bed. She wants to be well enough to do all the things she’s been dreaming of doing since Oliver came to her rescue and gave her hope that she could recover from the accident. 

If she ever recovers (_when, _she mentally corrects herself - she and Oliver have agreed to stop saying ‘if’ and start saying ‘when’) it will be so far down the road from now, it’s a little difficult to keep her spirits up. She’s facing an interminable period of time before she can realize her dreams. Felicity is a woman of action who can’t act. It’s frustrating and stifling in the extreme. 

But it is also not her mother’s fault. So she can’t take it out on Donna. Besides, Oliver seems absolutely taken with her, in a completely non-sexual way _ thank god_. Through it all, Oliver keeps her hand held firmly within his, his thumb running soothingly over her knuckles. At one point, as Donna recounts the story of the time when Felicity was four and lost her favorite stuffed animal, Mister Square Bear, Oliver even raises her hand (with the utmost of care) to his face and presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

Maybe her mom is actually a better wing woman than she thought. 

Eventually, Barry comes by and insists that Oliver return to his bed (he’s not supposed to stay out in the chair this long, they all know, but Barry has bent the rules for them today). As he helps Oliver back to his side of the room, Barry also informs them that visiting hours are ending. Felicity’s mother gets teary eyed and sorrowful as Barry sweeps out a moment later.

“I just hate to leave you sweetie, how can I help you if I can’t be with you for more than half the hours of the day?” 

Inwardly, Felicity praises the hospital gods and their wisdom for limiting visiting hours; she loves her mother but they’ve always done well with a little time and distance to make the heart grow fonder. But she knows this is hard on her mom, and she _ has _flown all the way out here to be with her. So Felicity tries to comfort her mother as best she can by offering her an alternative to being here. 

“Actually, Mom, I would really appreciate it if you could stay at my place? I’m sure my mail is piling up and my plants are probably dead. Not to mention I’ve probably still got dishes in the sink and food going bad in my fridge. I hate to be a burden on you-”

“A BURDEN?!” Donna gasps, a note of disbelief in her voice, “Honey, you could never! Don’t you worry a single hair on your pretty little head. I will take care of all of it. You just focus all your energy on getting better. I will take care of the rest. Do you hear me?” 

“Thanks Mom.” Felicity feels a warmth in her chest; it’s a small gesture but giving her mother an outlet for her nervous energy is perhaps one of the greater gifts she can offer Donna right now. In a little flurry of activity, her mother gathers her things, eventually giving Oliver a hug goodbye. Felicity hears their voices in a whispered exchange, but she can’t make out the words.

Hmm. She’s not sure how she feels about an alliance between her mother and Oliver. 

A moment later, her mother is at her bedside. She gives Felicity’s hand a squeeze and even kisses the back of her hand, unable to kiss Felicity’s forehead the way she ordinarily would. 

“I love you, baby girl. And I will be here for you every step of the way. Not just this week. But always.”

“I know you will, Mom. You always have been.” And it’s true. Her mother is many things but ‘devoted’ is at the top of that list. She’s always been there - even when Felicity has wished she would be anywhere else. Donna is a fierce Mama Bear and Felicity knows she’s lucky to have her, bull in a china shop attitude and all. 

Donna leans down close, her lips very near to Felicity’s ear, though she’s careful not to jostle her daughter in any way.

“And for the record, honey? He’s a keeper. Don’t let him get away. He smiles whenever you speak or hold hands, and every single time he turns his head in your direction. It's precious. And you light up like Christmas every time you see him or speak to him.”

“Mom, he’s just being nice. We’re friends,” Felicity whispers back, careful to keep her voice too low for even Oliver’s super hearing to pick up.

“_He’s in love with you_,” Donna argues back barely audible now, her eyes serious as she stares down at her daughter, “and you’re in love with him too.” 

“You don’t even know Oliver! You’ve interacted with him for like ten seconds!” Felicity counters in disbelief. Donna shakes her head and smiles knowingly.

“I knew it in five… And for the record? I’ve always wanted to have hospital sex!”

With that, Donna straightens and winks at Felicity with a mischievous glint in her eyes, even as Felicity gives a half laugh, half groan at her mother and her oversharing.

“Way TMI! _ Gross!_” Felicity whines loudly. “Not happening!” She falls silent as her mother blows her a kiss and smiles at her with the utmost of love. 

“I love you, baby girl. I’ll be back soon.” 

“I love you too, Mom.” 

Donna’s absence creates a vacuum in her wake and for a time, neither Felicity nor Oliver speak. But eventually, she hears Oliver rustle around in his bed, likely pulling himself into a sitting position.

“So, your mother…” he trails off, searching for the right word, “she’s…”

“A human cyclone?” Felicity offers helpfully, and Oliver chuckles.

“I was going to say ‘kind’.” 

“What did she whisper in your ear over there, huh? More incriminating tales of my childhood misadventures?” 

“She thanked me for taking care of you. And she told me that if I need anything, she’s only a phone call away… It meant a lot to me that she’d say that.” 

Felicity falls silent, overcome with love for her mother. Donna is many things, but she is never short of compassion and she’s proven it today. Her methods might be questionable and at times over the top, but Felicity knows that through it all, her mother has love in spades.

And Oliver's right. That does mean a lot. 

\-----

The days pass with surprising speed despite the severity of their current limitations. Oliver attributes this to the fact that time spent in Felicity’s company is always pleasant. The day after Donna’s visit, Iris and Alena turn up for a couple hours of socializing, laughter, and bonding. Somehow, Oliver is included in this and by the time the two leave, Oliver actually feels like he’s made a couple of new friends in those two. They even go so far as to put their numbers in his phone so that if Felicity needs anything, he can reach them and let them know. 

It warms his heart to know Felicity has friends like these two, friends who care enough to be protective and think to keep an eye out for her. 

The following day, Oliver gets a surprise in the form of his friend Tommy swinging by for a visit (thankfully, Felicity has hit her pain meds hard due to a spike in her hip pain, so she’s out cold for most of the ensuing ridiculousness). Tommy stays a while, leaving only after he attempts (unsuccessfully) to charm an unsuspecting Doctor Snow, passing through the room to check on Oliver and Felicity.

And somehow, just like that, Oliver is a week out from his eye surgery. Which means the day has come to have his bandages removed so the doctors can assess how well his surgery has - or hasn’t - worked.

Today, he’ll find out if he is blind or not. No big deal. 

Except it also means today he’ll find out if he’ll ever see Felicity’s face or not. Call his priorities misplaced, but somehow, that question seems like the bigger deal.

“Ready for the big reveal?” Doctor Wells asks, and Oliver can feel the man’s hands at his temples, unwrapping the bandages that have been tightly wound around his face while he recovers. 

“Extremely ready.” Oliver answers back eagerly. He feels the bandages move and begin to loosen around his head with painstaking slowness and then there’s light - _ blinding _ light. 

He blinks rapidly and winces, having spent the last two weeks in the dark means that even the muted fluorescent lighting of their room is as brilliant as an explosion to his poor, beleaguered pupils. As he blinks, his eyes water painfully, but the room slowly comes into focus. 

Doctor Wells is before him, a thin man long of face and with a shrewd expression and sharp eyes. He comes into startling clarity and Oliver feels his heart race. There’s no red tint, no floating, squiggly shapes, no maddening blurriness obscuring his vision. 

_ He can see_.

“Hey uh, not all of us can see what’s going on, Doctor Wells. Care to narrate for those of us unable to see the grand reopening?” Felicity’s voice is a nervous chirp from the opposite side of the room and instantly, Oliver swings his head to look at her. If his heart was racing before, it’s breaking land speed records now.

_ He’s going to get to see her_. Because he can see. _ He can see_! 

“Mister Queen, care to answer her question?” Doctor Wells asks with a smile and Oliver beams as he stares across the way at Felicity. He can’t really see her face because of the way she’s laying - the neck brace definitely obscures some of her from his view. But he can see her hair.

It’s blonde.

“You’re blonde!” He remarks brightly and his ears are still fine tuned enough to catch the soft, sharp inhale that his words elicit.

“I dye it, actually...Wait... _ You can see_!” 

“I can see!” 

And now that he can see a little of her, _ god, _he wants to see the rest of her. Most of her is obscured by the hospital blankets and her neck brace though, sadly. 

“I hate to cut this joyous revelation short, but I do need to do a few quick assessments, if you will Mister Queen?” Doctor Wells interjects and Oliver grudgingly returns his attention to the older man. After doing some eye exercises and having little lights shone into his eyes until he sees spots, Oliver finally gets the all clear from Wells. The minute he’s out the door, Oliver swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Whoa there, I hear you moving. You think that just because you can see you can go rogue? Think again, Mister!” Felicity remarks and Oliver cringes a little at getting caught. 

“I’m not going to go far, just to your bed.” 

“You’re not supposed to put weight on your legs yet. ‘Crush injuries’, remember?”

“I’m starting physical therapy today!” 

“Yes! Under the knowledgeable guidance and watchful eyes of an educated physical therapist!” 

“Felicity, I have waited a few very long weeks to see your face. I’m a few steps away. I think I can handle it.” 

“You keep saying that as if you’re in for a treat. We’re talking _ weeks _ of me being in the hospital, no makeup, hair all gross and unwashed. _ Nobody _wants to see that.” 

“I beg to differ.” 

He’s about to swing off of the bed to attempt to hobble towards her when a stern voice brings him up short.

“She’s right you know. You should really wait for your physical therapist before you decide to start playing cowboy and putting weight on your legs like that or you could risk damaging your muscles - permanently.” 

Oliver’s head whips to the doorway, where a muscular man is standing, looking distinctly smug as he stares Oliver down, his arms crossed before him authoritatively.

“And you are…?” Oliver asks grumpily and the man smiles.

“John Diggle - your physical therapist.” 

“Ha!” Felicity calls out from the other side of the room. As Oliver watches, she raises one hand, her index finger pointed for emphasis. “I told you so!” 

John Diggle smiles and pushes off of the doorway to walk fully into the room, going quickly to Felicity’s side.

“You must be Felicity Smoak… I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have?”

“I have. It’s a pleasure to put a face to the name. You should know though, I’m not just Oliver’s physical therapist - I’ll be yours too.” 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” 

“Okay, well as convenient as that is Mister Diggle-”

“You can call me John.” He smiles down at her and despite herself, Felicity grins.

“John. I appreciate the fact that you’re willing to do physical therapy with me but I’m going to be honest with you, I need to know what my insurance covers before we have any sessions because as you can probably guess, I’m not exactly going to be going back to work anytime soon, so I can’t afford anything my insurance won’t cover.” 

“Not a problem. Consider my services ‘on the house’. The hospital being the ‘house’.” 

“Nothing is ever ‘on the house’ at a hospital.” Felicity remarks suspiciously and Oliver watches John’s eyes flicker from Felicity over to Oliver, who shakes his head. He doesn’t want Felicity to know that he’s paid for her hospital bill in full and that all her expenses are going to be taken care of by him. She’d object and really, there’s no need for that. It's not a large sum to the Queen heir but he knows it would be a small fortune to her. If paying for her care is the cost of the peace of mind and comfort she brings him, it’s a small price to pay. 

“We get grants sometimes, Miss Smoak. Sometimes grants pay for these things.” John covers fabulously and this seems to satisfy her.

“Oh… Well… In that case - thanks. When can we get started?” 

“You're welcome. We’ll get started in a minute. First, I need to work with your over-anxious neighbor over here.” 

“Yeah, about that. How about we start with me walking over to Felicity’s bedside?” 

“No can do. We stick to the program. That’s not in the cards for today. We’re starting with some exercises in bed. We can’t stress your injuries this soon. Next session, maybe we can work on standing.” John shakes his head and Oliver feels the vein in his head pulse angrily.

“Listen John,”

“You can call me ‘Mister Diggle’. Or ‘Diggle’.” 

“But you said-”

“Felicity is being a model patient. _ She _gets to call me John.” 

“Haha!” Felicity teases and Oliver shoots her a grin even though she can’t see it and shakes his head in amusement. _ Of course _ their physical therapist likes Felicity better. Oliver can’t fault him though. Oliver likes Felicity better too. 

“Alright, Diggle,” Oliver tries again as he takes a deep breath to try and calm himself, “I would like to be honest with you here. Either you can help me go see Felicity under your experienced supervision now, or I’ll just go over there on my own without you around to help me later. Your call.” 

Diggle is quiet for a moment as he contemplates, one hand on his chin. Then, he points at Oliver and wags his finger.

“Nice try. But I don’t negotiate with terrorists. And if you’re going to threaten to go rogue later, I can have you restrained.” 

“Zing! That’s one for John!” Felicity crows and now, Oliver’s feathers are definitely a little ruffled. 

“Since when do you root against me, huh?” He asks Felicity. Her response comes back without hesitation, though there is a sheepish tone to it.

“Since you decided to flaunt doctor’s orders and risk hurting yourself. I’m 100% Team Oliver. Which means I don’t want you getting hurt, least of all on my account.” 

Oliver groans and flops back against his pillows, at a loss for words. There’s nothing he can think of to say to argue with her - if the tables were turned, he wouldn’t want her risking injury to herself just to get a look at his face. 

“Come on guys, cut me some slack. I just found out I’m not blind and the one thing I want to lay eyes on, you’re gonna deprive me of the chance to see?”

“Let me get this straight: you want to see her face. That’s it. That’s what the uproar is all about?” Diggle clarifies and Oliver nods.

“Yes! I don’t care if I have to get wheeled over there but come on. Help me out. I’ve been waiting two weeks to see what a Felicity Smoak smile looks like.”

Diggle glances from Oliver to Felicity and back again and Oliver senses, he’s wavering. But he’s a hardass - Oliver can already tell. If he pushes him much more, Diggle might say ‘no’ just on principle. So instead, Oliver waits to see which way Diggle will decide to go.

It turns out, his luck is improving.

“Alright. I’ll grab a chair _ if _you promise not to try any BS when I’m not around to supervise. Deal?” 

“Are you kidding? I’d have given you my firstborn for this chance. Deal!” Oliver crows delightedly, glancing eagerly at what he can see of Felicity across the room. “You hear that Smoak?”

“I can’t believe you gave in to the terrorist.” Felicity teases and Oliver hears Diggle chuckle as he leaves the room to procure the wheelchair. A long few minutes later, Oliver’s seated in it and is being pushed across the room to her bedside. He’s going to see her face. Finally, after more than a week of wondering and wishing and waiting, he will know what Felicity Smoak looks like.

‘Excited’ is too small a word.

He keeps his eyes closed despite the building anticipation and he waits until the wheelchair stops moving. Oliver’s heart feels as though it may beat right out of his chest, it’s pounding so loudly. But over the din of his heart, he hears her voice.

“Hey there, neighbor.” 

When he opens his eyes, the very sight of her leaves him breathless. Her blonde hair is splayed across the pillows, framing her face beautifully. Her skin is pale and a bit sickly, her lips a little ashen. But as his eyes travel the span of her face, it isn’t the dark circles beneath her eyes that catch his attention; it’s the way he swears his heart stops beating when his eyes meet hers. Her eyes are positively _ striking_; they’re a penetrating shade of clear, crisp blue and the intelligence and wit he’s come to associate with her positively shines through. 

He could lose himself staring into those eyes. As it is, it’s all he can do to tear himself away to continue studying the rest of her face.

He can tell she’s a little shy, being watched so intently, but he can’t help himself. His eyes move slowly across the planes of her face, taking in every detail. The gentle slope of her nose, the youthful round cheeks that, even as he watches, begin to take on color beneath his watchful gaze - he loves it all. Her lopsided, guarded smile as she awaits his verdict clues him in to just how nervous she is about him finally seeing her, but she’s got nothing to worry about.

In his eyes? She’s the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen. 

“Wow.” He says at last, shaking his head with a tight, small smile. “You’ve been holding out on me all this time, Smoak.” He remarks, not bothering to hide the amazement in his voice. And it is this comment which earns him a true blue, Felicity Smoak smile and _ hell_. It’s a good thing he’s already sitting down because otherwise he’s pretty certain he’d stagger at the sight. 

Her smile is _ breathtaking_. Her eyes flutter halfway closed and she smiles with her whole mouth, revealing beautiful, toothpaste commercial perfect, white teeth. Her whole face glows with joy when she smiles and she’s so radiant in that moment that Oliver feels himself falling hard. 

“I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on that smile all this time. That’s criminal.” He exhales softly as he continues to stare down at her, totally oblivious to the fact that Diggle is still there, standing not far behind him. 

“You’re delusional.” 

“You’re _ dazzling_.” He counters as he leans in closer, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “And I am _ really _glad that I finally got a chance to see you with my own two eyes.” 

“Alright, save some for when she’s out of the neck cast.” Diggle comments with a chuckle as he wheels Oliver away from Felicity and back to his own bed. “I kept my end of the bargain, so now it’s time for you to do some PT exercises...” 

_ \----- _

Barry runs back to the ICU nurse’s station to work on updating some charts when Caitlin emerges from Room 320 with a wide grin on her face. It's been a week since Oliver got his sight back and if possible, his relationship with Felicity has become even more of an adored news topic for the staff. Barry looks up as Caitlin sits beside him, still smiling, and he laughs.

“Felicity and Oliver?” He asks knowingly and Caitlin beams.

“Yes! I mean, I know they’re patients and we’re supposed to concern ourselves with their health, but they’re just so _ cute together_.” Caitlin sighs as she reclines against her chair. Caitlin isn’t the only one who adores the duo - virtually all the hospital staff have remarked on the blossoming friendship between the two patients. 

“They are.” Barry nods with a chuckle as he finishes writing an update on one chart and closes it before returning to Caitlin. “What’d they do this time?” 

“Oliver had a nightmare last night - sounds to me like a PTSD induced one - and Felicity talked to him until he was okay. And this morning, she urged him to talk to a professional. All of which I know, because Oliver asked me about seeing a psychologist and told me _ everything_. Those two are _ so _good for each other. It boggles my mind.” Caitlin sighs happily and Barry shakes his head in surprise.

“Wow. Did you know that as soon as she got cleared to move her arms and hands more freely this week, the first thing she asked to do was sign his cast? She wrote ‘Oliver Queen is my hero’ and even drew a crown over the ‘Q’ in Queen. And she signed it with a heart and her name.” 

“I know! I can’t get over it. It’s so cute! Everything those two do is just so thoughtful and sweet.” 

“Thoughtful? You don’t know the half of it.” The pair spin around to catch Doctor Ramon walking up, shaking his head as he nears them. “Oliver keeps using meal delivery services to have whatever food she’s craving brought to the room. I have those two to thank for the fact that I now have a raging craving for Big Belly Burger.” 

“I hope they stay in touch after he gets released.” Caitlin murmurs, spinning her rolly chair wistfully. 

“Are you kidding? After the way he chewed out his mom for moving him out of the room? The only way he’s leaving that room is with her.” Cisco remarks with a smirk and Barry nods.

“He’s right. I had to come wheel him back after the room switch debacle and he was… Wow. Dangerous levels of mad every step of the way _ until _we got to their room. I don’t think there’s a force great enough to make him leave if Felicity’s still here and needs him.” 

“She’s the same way, she’s just more subtle about it,” Caitlin points out, holding her pen before her as she stares at her coworkers, “John came in to do her physical therapy exercises and Oliver was still asleep. Felicity stalled with John until Oliver woke up. Turns out, she didn’t want to make any noise that might disrupt him in his sleep and possibly trigger his PTSD.” 

The trio shake their heads in disbelief at the level of devotion that their two patients have forged for each other. It’s heartwarming to see two people go through such horrible experiences and manage to come out the other side without losing themselves in the process. None of them doubt just how good for each other Oliver and Felicity are. The proof is staring them in the face every time they enter Room 320. 

“The real question is, how long before one of them asks the other out?” Cisco remarks, waggling his brows playfully at the other two, both of whom shake their heads at him. 

“Let them enjoy being friends first, Cisco.” Caitlin calls over her shoulder as she strides away from the nurse's station and back towards the ER. “That’s how all the best relationships start.”


	4. Chapter 4

Felicity is deliriously happy that she is not paralyzed. _ Deliriously happy_. Being able to wiggle her toes, use her arms - and hopefully, someday soon, sit and stand and actually _ function_? That’s nothing short of miraculous. But it isn’t without cost.

The downside to regaining sensation in her body? 

Feeling everything her body has undergone. Feeling the place where they cut away bone from her hip to graft to her neck. Feeling where they sliced through her skin and pieced her back together with metal and bone. Feeling the new, foreign stiffness to her neck, where she’s now part bionic woman.

As it turns out, being able to feel is both a blessing and a curse. She keeps trying to remind herself of just how lucky she is to be feeling but it’s a little hard during the times when the agony in her hip flashes white hot and intense and sets her teeth on edge. 

Since her surgery, Felicity has been on a hefty dose of painkillers to help her manage the lancing pain that she feels without the drugs. But now, with some distance from her surgery, the doctors are trying to wean her off her IV meds so they can transition her onto less potent meds in pill form, at set times around the clock. It’s another step in a carefully constructed recovery plan that will enable her to manage her pain even after she’s left the hospital.

Which Felicity is fine with. In theory. In practice? 

It’s excruciatingly difficult. Mostly because her pain level? It reaches just shy of excruciating when the previous dose is beginning to wear off but she still has to hold out for the next dose. And Felicity hates feeling at all dependent on the meds to help her through but at the same time, she hates feeling so much pain that it clouds her thoughts and makes it difficult to focus on anything. 

Still, she tries to swallow it down and not complain. Feeling is a luxury, as she now knows. She’s determined not to make a fuss.

But when she wakes in the middle of the night, still hours out from her next scheduled dose of meds and she feels as though someone has jammed a poker through her hip? Well. It’s hard to tell herself that what she’s experiencing is a gift. 

Her breathing is shallow and ragged even as she attempts to breathe through the throbbing at her graft site. The hurt is profound, enough that she’s lost in it for an untold period of time.

The thing that brings her back isn’t so much a thing as it is a person. Oliver, of course. 

She’s still trying (unsuccessfully) to breathe through the continued pangs of pain when she hears him moving in his bed. Well… moving is perhaps a kind way of putting it - he’s _ thrashing_. Unable to move her head to look at him, Felicity can only talk to him and gesture with her hands - though truthfully, any movement on her part just worsens her pain. Not that that matters though - she’ll wave her arms and hands about like a human pinwheel if it will help Oliver. He matters that much.

“Oliver? Oliver are you alright?” 

He’s silent, save for the sounds of further thrashing. Now she feels the cold claws of panic gripping her. What if something is wrong? _ Really _ wrong? She’s frantic now, snapping with her fingers and even rapping the railing on the side of her bed to try and wake him - _ if _he’s actually asleep, and not having some sort of medical emergency. 

“Oliver! Oliver can you hear me? If you can hear me, please Oliver, say something!” 

She’s on the verge of hitting the ‘Call Nurse’ button when his voice breaks through the quiet, groggy and disoriented.

“Felicity?”

The thundering in her head goes away almost at once; _ he’s alright_. 

“Oh thank goodness,” she sighs, her thumb falling away from the button. “You worried me there for a minute. I wasn’t sure if you were alright or not.” 

“I’m sorry,” he answers back mournfully, his voice heavy with fatigue. “I was having another nightmare. Did I wake you?” There’s guilt front and center in his voice and Felicity can’t help but scoff.

“_You _didn’t wake me. My hip did.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for? Did you pull a hit and run on me, leaving me seriously injured with a spinal injury that required a bone graft? Because last I checked, you didn’t, so you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

There’s a moment’s delay as his brain catches up with her rambling mouth and then he chuckles. 

“Point taken. I’m still sorry you’re in pain though. Why don’t you call the nurse and see about bumping up your meds a bit? It’s not right that you’re in such distress, Felicity.” Oliver is always protective of her but especially so where her pain tolerance is concerned. 

“The doctors want me to stick to the schedule. So I’m going to try and do that,” Felicity explains with a heavy sigh. “So no meds for a few more hours still.” 

“That’s insane.” 

“That’s doctor’s orders,” Felicity remarks, refocusing the conversation. “I’m sorry you’re having nightmares still… I-Is there anything I can do?” 

From the other side of the room, a dry, barking laugh breaks the quiet. 

“According to the psychologist I have to work through the trauma. There’s a number of ways to do that, either using meds or exposure therapy. But I’m not really keen on either of those options.” 

“Are those the only options?” 

“There’s a few exercises I can try. Breathing techniques. Muscle relaxation exercises. That sort of thing.” 

“If I breathe with you, will that help you fall back to sleep?” 

“And leave you awake and alone? No way.” 

She lets loose a noise of frustration, guttural and deep from the back of her throat. _ Frak he’s stubborn! _ She already knew that about him but being on the receiving end of that stubbornness is no less irritating, even if he’s doing it on her behalf.

“You’re really not going to let me do anything for you? That is _ so not okay!_” She can’t help the prominent note of exasperation in her voice when she says it. The great selfless lump. She really adores him for precisely this level of selflessness but she hates that he’s doing it at such personal cost.

“Well...there is _ one _thing you could do for me…?” The offer is unexpected, mostly because it feels a bit like him surrendering. But she pounces on the opportunity. 

“What can I do?” 

“Just… talk to me?” His voice is small and childlike, the emotion behind it so pure, she doesn’t even bother questioning his motives, though he offers an explanation a moment later. “It… it helps me relax. Your voice, I mean.” 

“Well we know that talking _ is _my specialty,” she exhales quietly. “What do you want me to talk about?” 

“Anything..._ You_. Your childhood,” he requests. And in that fit of raw honesty, she can hear how tired he is; the fatigue weighs down the edges of his voice and makes it softer as the syllables meld together. It’s as though there’s the faintest, weary slur to his words. It’s subtle, but she knows him well enough to pick up on it. 

“Mmm. Well that’s not exactly the lighthearted stuff of bedtime stories. Are you sure you don’t want me to tell you about something that, perhaps, involves a little less paternal abandonment?” 

“You don’t have to tell me about it,” Oliver hastens and she cringes for making him feel bad about asking, “I just… I wanted to hear about what you were like as a little kid. That’s all. You don’t have to,” he hurries to retract his request. But seriously? He wants to hear about her as a kid? It’s so sweet, she actually gets a little choked up. How’s she supposed to say no to _ that_? He could get away with murder if he sweet talked her like that. Good thing he doesn’t seem murder-inclined. 

“Well, little kid Felicity was quite the nerd, I’ll have you know.” If he wants to hear about her childhood, she’s not about to deny him. There’s a moment’s delay as he realizes she’s complied with his request and then he reacts and the victorious grin he _ must _be wearing is audible in his voice, she’d swear it. 

“Do tell.” 

“I was _ obsessed _ with outer space. Couldn’t get enough of it. Seriously, you could have asked me anything about the solar system and I would have schooled you. If you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have told you I was going to be an astronaut. I _ begged _my mom to send me to an eight week long space camp. But she said she couldn’t bear the thought of me being away that long. So no space camp for nerdy, little Felicity,” she explains with a wry smile. 

“Talk about childhood tragedy,” Oliver teases softly, eliciting a smile from her. 

“I know, right? I locked myself in my room for two whole days. Little Felicity also apparently had a flair for the dramatic,” she snorts before taking a deep breath. 

“I used to have this teddy bear, Mister Square Bear. He was my best friend until I lost him when I was four. After that… well, I didn’t have a lot of friends, so working on techy stuff filled that void. I built a supercomputer when I was seven. I guess that’s something.” 

“You _ guess_? Felicity-” he begins, only for her to stop him short.

“Hey! No interrupting. This is my story and you’re just supposed to relax and listen to it, capiche?”

“Was little Felicity also this bossy?” 

“If you’re not careful I’m gonna kick your butt so hard you’ll go back in time to see for yourself.” 

“Is kicking part of your PT regime these days?” 

“I am warning you, mister!”

“Consider me duly warned,” he laughs, barely able to spit out the words through his hearty guffaws. 

“Good,” she sniffs, undeterred. “Now where was I?”

“Supercomputer. Age seven.” 

“Ah yes,” she settles back in, resuming her story.

And so it goes. Minutiae from her childhood is apparently highly soothing to Oliver. She tells him of her Halloween costume choices over the years, of how she hacked Napster as part of her science fair project, and of how she learned to count cards when she was still too young (and small) to ride in the car without a booster seat. She regales him with tales of her Mathlete days and how she won the state Mathletics Championship three years running. In short order, Oliver settles down with less movement sounding from his side of the room. And though he hangs in there for quite a while listening to her relive her childhood, she catches the _ faintest _wheezing that signals he’s fallen asleep just as the first, faint bit of sunlight begins to reach their room to herald the dawn. 

She listens to him breathe for some time, the deep, rhythmic sound soothes her. It comforts her to think that, perhaps, she’s managed to help him rest easier tonight. His breathing now seems more even and deeper, as though he’s actually, truly resting - unlike the questionable cat naps he seems to be getting lately. Or perhaps that’s just wishful thinking on her part, to make her feel more useful. Whatever the case, she’s glad he’s asleep again. 

With a contented sigh, Felicity tries to close her own eyes; if she’s lucky, she might be able to grab a few minutes of sleep before the medical staff comes in to give her the next dose of her meds. 

\-----

The morning comes entirely too quickly; one moment, Oliver’s listening drowsily to Felicity fill him in on her childhood’s greatest hits, the next, he’s waving goodbye to her as he’s shuttled out of the room and off to his PT session.

Oliver hates physical therapy. 

John Diggle is a hardass but that’s not the problem. Actually, Oliver really likes Diggle, even if the dude _ needs _to lighten up with his militant therapy schedule. The problem is, Oliver has to be wheeled over to the therapy wing for his sessions with Diggle, while Felicity gets to stay in their room for hers. Granted, this is because Felicity’s physical therapy mostly entails moving her limbs so that she retains some muscle tone and to prevent bed sores, whereas Oliver requires equipment to properly engage his muscle groups and get him walking and moving normally.

The point is, going to physical therapy means that four times a week, Oliver spends the better part of an hour without Felicity. Those four hours invariably wind up being his least favorite four hours of the week. Not to mention that now, with his nightmares keeping him from sleeping well, PT takes a hell of a lot out of him.

So when he gets wheeled back to their room and broaches his idea of putting off his physical therapy until Felicity’s gotten the all-clear to start walking (and can therefore, join him on his excursions to therapy-land), he thinks he might have a chance at convincing her to let him.

Felicity is quick to squelch this thought.

“No. Absolutely not. You are _ not _postponing your physical therapy!” She scolds him from across the room. She wags a finger at him for emphasis - now that she’s gotten the all clear to move her hands and arms around more freely, she talks with her hands a lot. It’s adorable. 

“I’ve got all the time in the world... Besides, if I hold off on physical therapy now... we can go through it together later!” Oliver remarks brightly and Felicity scoffs.

“I don’t think so! By the time I’m ready for physical therapy in the therapy wing, you’re at least going to have to be stable enough to hold my hand and keep me from falling on my face,” she teases, flashing him a brilliant smile. _ He loves her smile_. He doesn’t think it’s possible to tire of seeing it in all its dazzling beauty. 

“Is that so?”

“That is absolutely so. If you wait to do your physical therapy until I’m ready, then we’ll both be falling over each other. That doesn’t sound like fun at all. I’d much rather have you helping support me than falling on top of me. You look like you’d be heavy. You’re so..._ tall _ and you’ve got all those muscles,” she teases with a wave of her hand in his direction, but Oliver falls still. Because the mental image of holding her hand and helping her walk? _ Wow_. That gets him; his skin prickles into goosebumps and he shivers in a good way. 

“Promise?”

“Promise what?” 

“That if I do physical therapy now... you’ll go on a walk with me when you’re able to.” 

“Walk, run, dance - if you do your physical therapy now, I’ll be all yours when I get to use my feet again.” She swears and Oliver feels his pulse quicken because _ dancing with Felicity_. Now there’s a delicious thought. The opportunity to bury his face in her hair and hold her close? That’s the stuff his dreams are made of.

“I’m not kidding, Smoak. I mean it... I want a real, ‘long walks on the beach’ style walk.” 

“Hand in hand for a romantic walk on the beach, huh?” she teases but Oliver hums happily in response.

“Precisely.” 

There’s an echoing, cavernous silence from her and then she speaks. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll walk with you.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” He remarks brightly. 

“Pinky swear!” Felicity crows suddenly, and glancing at her side of the room, he can see she’s holding her pinky finger aloft expectantly. Chuckling, Oliver does the same.

“Pinky swear,” he agrees solemnly and with the utmost of sincerity. 

And that is how Oliver finds himself agreeing to continue PT with John Diggle, sweating his ass off in the middle of the day, four days a week, despite his carefully laid plan to ditch PT for a while. And at first he’s hopeful about the sessions - they’ll help him regain some of his mobility for one, but what’s more? PT might just exhaust him into sleeping well.

Win-win, right?

Wrong. 

Oliver doesn’t sleep well that night. Or the next night. At least, not at first - each night, Felicity is awake before his night terrors rouse him. She helps him come out of each episode and then, with extreme compassion, she talks him back to a place of calm so that he can fall back to sleep. 

And he does. _ Eventually_. But only with Felicity’s help. After a week of rough nights, the combination of PT and lack of sleep are beginning to take their toll. 

Diggle is no slouch and he demands a lot of Oliver. And sure, Oliver was fit before his accident, and he’d logged his fair share of gym hours. But this? This is different. This is re-learning how to walk all over again. This is getting winded doing a fraction of the work he’s been used to doing in the past. And it is _ hard _to keep pushing when everything in him wants to give up.

But when he reaches what he thinks is the end of his rope, Oliver just thinks of Felicity, and he finds the will and the way to keep going, every single time. Because the idea of taking her hand in his and walking a while? That can give him a fresh wave of energy to tackle _ anything_. 

“Good job, way to push through that last set.” Diggle remarks as Oliver finally finishes up and sits down to drink water and cool off. “I gotta say Oliver, you’ve surprised me with your commitment to therapy. I was expecting a lot more of the hot shot, run your mouth, punk routine outta you.” 

Oliver takes another swig from his water bottle, too exhausted to respond at first. After a minute or two gathering his breath, he focuses on his therapist. 

“Maybe if it was just me that I had to worry about... I would be like that. But I was promised a walk... with a pretty girl. That’s pretty good motivation, if you ask me.” 

“Felicity.” It isn’t a question; virtually everyone who has met them at this point knows that the two patients are virtually inseparable and have giant soft spots for each other. “Yeah, I can see that. She’s a pretty good reason to fight through the pain.” 

“She’s the best reason.” Oliver counters between drinks of water, still breathing heavily. Diggle smirks. 

“Oh yeah, is that so? You planning on telling _ her _that?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like we can exactly keep secrets… when the only thing separating us is a curtain and our medical conditions.” 

“But have you told her, in no uncertain terms? That’s important to do, man.” Diggle explains and Oliver pauses and looks at his therapist.

“I mean, I think so?”

“You think so or you know so? There’s a big difference.” 

“She knows how I feel. And I know how she feels... We’re each other's strength.” Oliver explains and Diggle nods but points a finger at him.

“That may be. But if you care about someone, it’s important that you don’t dance around it and you just say it plainly. And you care about her. That much is obvious. But have you told her flat out that you care about her?” 

Oliver doesn’t react and Diggle nods knowingly. 

“All I know is when you find someone that makes you feel the way Felicity makes you feel, you gotta hold on tight and you have to make sure that they know beyond a shadow of doubt how you feel.” 

Oliver’s silent as he contemplates Diggle’s advice. While he’s certain that Felicity knows he cares about her, perhaps his physical therapist is right. After everything Oliver and Felicity have both been through, they know better than anyone that life is short and it can be lost in the blink of an eye. So telling the people you love how you feel while you can? 

It’s important.

“I didn’t know you moonlighted as a... relationship expert, Diggle.” Oliver replies casually to try and dispel the serious air that’s settled over the pair of them. Diggle just shakes his head and smirks. 

“That’s hard won knowledge, my man. I’ve been married, divorced, and remarried - all to the same woman. Trust me. Talking about your feelings is important. It’s the make-or-break for a lot of relationships. So if you want this thing between you and Felicity to last, whatever it is? You better be honest with her.” 

Oliver nods and lets Diggle’s words soak in. But Diggle’s next words rock him.

“_Especially _since I’m pretty sure the docs are talking about recommending you for discharge. It’s gonna change the dynamic between you two up there so you should really let her know how you feel before you leave.” 

“_What?!_” 

Diggle looks to his patient in surprise, clearly having expected a different reaction. 

“Come on man, you didn’t see this coming? You’re kicking ass at physical therapy, your speech therapy is going really well, your vision is back, and Doctor Schwartz is super pleased with your latest cognitive assessments. The plan is for you to get discharged in the next week or two, last I heard.” 

No. No no no _ no no_. 

“But Felicity is still going to be here for _ ages_,” Oliver murmurs in disbelief and Diggle sighs.

“Well… yeah. She fractured her neck, Oliver. It’s going to take her a lot longer to be ready for the wide world out there. But you can’t wait for her to be ready. Every person’s healing is different.”

“The hell I can’t... Come on Diggle, please. Do me a solid. Say I had a setback or something. Please... I’ll do _ anything_, just don’t let them discharge me.” 

Oliver is desperate as he pleads with Diggle, even though he’s convinced it’s a lost cause. As much of a boy scout as John Diggle is, there’s no way he’ll skirt hospital authority just to keep Oliver hospitalized. But he’s got to give it a shot. He’ll do whatever it takes to stay at Felicity’s side. 

“I don’t know man, that could backfire on both of us. Have you thought of that?” 

Of course he hasn’t. This is all very ‘fly by the seat of your pants’, but what other choice does Oliver have? If he waits too long, this ball will be in motion and nothing he says or does will stop it. He’s got to strike now, while he’s still got a chance of slowing this discharge business down before it builds too much momentum. 

“I can’t leave her, Diggle. We both know the two of us do better together... If you take her away, I’m going to be a mess. And if you take me away... she probably will be too. We rely on each other.” 

There’s a long period of silence and Oliver can tell Diggle is thinking before he heaves a heavy sigh. 

“Alright. But not because you asked me to - because you’re right. Felicity won’t do well without you around and I don’t want to derail her progress. Her healing is going to be a hell of a lot harder in some ways than yours and if keeping your ugly mug around helps her, I’ll do it.” 

Oliver looks up at his physical therapist from the comfort of his wheelchair with a cocksure grin.

“Diggle, you’re a saint and a scholar.” 

“Mhmm,” Diggle grunts in return and Oliver can only fold his arms before himself in smug victory. 

“Ready to wheel me back up to my room?”

“Ah yes. My glorious side gig as Oliver Queen’s chauffeur. Man, I love my job. Really glad I just signed up for additional weeks of doing this with you,” Diggle remarks sarcastically as he guides Oliver to the elevator. 

\-----

As it turns out, Diggle gets released early from his gig as Oliver’s chauffeur when he gets paged to a room on another floor. Barry comes to wheel Oliver the rest of the way back to his room and the two are chatting quietly as they approach the doorway to Room 320 when raised voices reach Oliver’s ears from just outside the open door. He waves at Barry to pause and the nurse acquiesces, both men poised to listen to the arguing voices from within. 

Oliver’s stomach flops uneasily.

One of the raised voices is his mother’s. The other belongs to Felicity. 

“I just find it oddly convenient that a girl with _ tremendous _technological capabilities ‘just so happens’ to be sharing a room with my son.” 

“I’m sorry, are you accusing me of… _ hacking the hospital so Oliver and I would share a room?_” Felicity’s voice is rife with disbelief and Oliver can’t blame her. For one, Felicity has been too immobile until recently to even think of attempting any hacking escapades. For another, she and Oliver were put as neighbors while Felicity was still unconscious. There’s literally no way she could have done what his mother is accusing her of. 

“I certainly find it hard to believe it was a coincidence,” his mother sniffs and Oliver feels his hackles raise at his mother’s treatment of Felicity. What’s brought on this aggressive attack? Hasn’t Oliver established in no uncertain terms that Felicity is a positive, _ necessary _ component of his recovery? How has his mother not gotten this memo? 

“It _ was _ a coincidence! I didn’t _ make _it happen! I was unable to move when they placed us in the same room, or have you forgotten that I’m recovering from a fractured neck here?! Besides, what possible motive could I have for arranging that anyway?!” Felicity bleats weakly, sounding exhausted in the extreme.

“A payday, for one,” Moira answers back sharply and Oliver hisses quietly under his breath. 

“Okay, I know I have a killer headache right now and that I’m not at my best mentally but _what_ _on earth are you talking about_?!”

“Don’t play dumb. I know that my son has already paid for your hospital bills. How convenient for you that Oliver is so generous. Especially when the recipient of that generosity is a bed bound blonde showering him in attention and affection while he’s stuck in this hospital,” Moira growls and Oliver clenches the armrest of his wheelchair tightly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Felicity retorts coldly. “I haven’t asked Oliver for a penny and I don’t intend to. I don’t care about your son because of what he is. I care about your son for _ who _he is-” Felicity tries to explain, only to be cut off by Moira. 

“-a billionaire and the heir to Queen Consolidated.” 

“No! That’s _ what _ he is. _ Who _ he is though? That’s something else entirely. He’s a _ good _ person. He’s kind. He’s the sort of person who helps a stranger in need with no expectation of being repaid. He’s the guy who does random acts of kindness to make a person’s day better. He’s my best friend and he’s a million other things. _ That’s _who he is.” 

Oliver hears his mother snort in derision. 

“I see how you look at him. Friends don’t look at each other the way that you look at my son. You can’t deny that you have feelings for him. And you must know he feels _ something _ for you too. You’re just abusing that to get what you want - his money.” 

Oliver’s stomach is in knots at the implication of his mother’s words; he’s torn between having Barry wheel him in there so he can accost her, and his own curiosity as to what Felicity’s answer will be.

She outdoes herself in her response.

“I care about your son a great deal. And ‘what I want’ is for him to heal physically and mentally so he can go back to his life outside of this hospital - even if that life doesn’t include me in it. I just want him to be happy and healthy. Now I’m sorry if you have a problem with the way I feel about your son. Because you’re right. I won’t deny that I have feelings for him. But I won’t apologize for feeling that way. He is my hero. He saves me every day simply by the kindness he shows me. And just because you can’t see all the wonderful parts of him that I do, doesn’t make that any less true.”

There’s a pause and Oliver can practically picture Felicity steeling herself for whatever she’s about to say. 

“Do you want to know the difference between you and I? I see Oliver as someone injured in need of healing. You see him as a broken thing that needs to be fixed. And right now he doesn’t fit the perfect image of what you think he should be, so you want to force him into that role. I don’t. I like him just the way he is. And I won’t apologize for that.”

There’s a silence so deafening that Oliver can’t help but lean forward, afraid he’s missed something. But his mother’s voice comes eventually, cold and raised but no longer a yell.

“You can claim to care for him and his recovery until you’re blue in the face, but at every turn, you continue to be a hindrance to his healing. You’re a disruption and a distraction and it is only a matter of time before my son sees it too.” 

“I may be many things, but I have _ never _ sought to delay Oliver’s recovery. If you think for a _ second _ that...that…you cra-zy… dragon...jello.”

Felicity is sputtering and for a second Oliver thinks it’s simply her anger or her tendency to babble rearing up. But after another second of hearing her, some gut instinct screams at Oliver that something is amiss.

“Barry, something’s wrong with Felicity!” Oliver hisses and with a start, the nurse lurches forward, wheeling the pair beyond the threshold and right into Room 320 and the storm brewing within it. 

His mother stands at Felicity’s side, looking utterly bewildered as the petite blonde twitches, her whole left side gone slack. Oliver’s heart hammers and he can’t help the fear screaming in his veins.

“Felicity!” 

Barry is at her side in an instant and for that, Oliver is tremendously grateful. 

“Felicity, can you repeat this sentence back to me? ‘The cow jumped over the moon’. Got it? Can you say that back to me?”

“Cow-ooon.” Felicity slurs and Olivers stomach twists with worry. Barry winces and checks her monitor, then races out of the room. When he’s in the hallway, Oliver hears him shouting.

“I’ve got a Code Blue! CODE BLUE!” 

Oliver can only watch from his chair, helpless and useless, as Barry comes tearing back in, accompanied by Doctor Snow and Doctor Schwartz, who buffet Moira out of the way as they rush to Felicity’s side, talking so fast Oliver can’t make his brain keep up. 

There’s a flurry of activity and Oliver only catches snippets of conversation, though he understands even less than what little he hears. 

“I want a cerebral angiogram. Tell radiology we’re coming! And get me an anesthesiologist. She’s having a stroke, or if she’s lucky it’s a TIA. What the hell happened?”

“Do you think it could be a clot from her surgery?”

“It’s possible. Spinal patients are always at a higher risk for clots.” 

“It sounded like she was having an argument right before the event. And she complained of head pain.”

“_Damn it!_” 

As Oliver watches, the staff stabilize Felicity’s neck and swiftly move her onto a gurney and sweep her from the room, leaving Oliver alone and stunned. It takes him a minute to realize that he’s crying silent tears, but he can’t shake the image of Felicity looking small and sickly, or the slurred, uneven sound of her voice as she attempted to speak coherently and failed. 

Is she going to be alright? The doctors… they’d talked about a stroke. But that can’t be right. Felicity is young and healthy, broken neck aside. How can she be having a stroke? That’s the sort of thing that happens to old people, not perfectly vibrant twenty something year olds! 

Movement from the other side of the room catches his attention and Oliver realizes his mother is still here, having been swept against the wall to stay out of the way of the frenzied medical personnel in their desperate flight with Felicity. 

“Oliver-” she begins and he turns his face away from her straight away.

“Don’t... You had no right... If you had a problem... with me paying for her bills... you should have confronted _ me_... She doesn’t even know that... I paid them. And now, because of you…” Oliver trails off, shaking his head angrily. His rage and his worry leave no room for him to collect his thoughts and his head is pounding as he tries and fails to let the words flow freely. He’s stressed. His blood pressure is probably high. But in the moment, all he can think is that he never struggles like this when Felicity is around and now she’s gone because of his mother and he’s suddenly reduced to a stammering idiot. 

His mother is protective. This he knows and accepts to be true. But there’s such a thing as too protective, too overbearing, and she’s gone so far beyond what’s acceptable, he can’t dismiss it or explain it away. 

“I think you should go… If anyone here is hurting my recovery… It’s you.” 

It’s a low blow and he can see the shock register on her face, followed by the hurt and the flash of anger. Yes, Moira Queen has lost her husband and nearly lost her son. But Oliver can’t forgive her for all of her bad behavior just because she’s suffered.

He’s suffered too. But he’s come through his crucible with the goal of being better. Felicity makes him want to be better. His mother? …She’s bitter and cynical and judgmental and none of those things are going to help Oliver. His mother feels like a poison; every time she shows up, something seems to go wrong and he just can’t risk that. He and Felicity are both too vulnerable. 

“Oliver, please. I was only trying to protect you-”

“I know you think you were... But that doesn’t make it right… And you aren’t helping. You’re hurting.” 

She gapes at him for a moment before she finally closes her mouth and takes a breath through her nose, looking hollowly at him.

“Very well. I’ll go then.” 

She walks stiffly towards the door, hesitating as she nears him. And though she must be able to see the way he quivers with rage, his mother presses a soft kiss to the top of his head and lays a hand across his shoulder.

“I do love you, Oliver. Whatever you may think of me, know that.” 

And then she’s gone, leaving him a shaky, unsteady mess in the painfully empty room. With tremendous effort, Oliver wheels himself across the room in fits and starts, his broken arm not being very well equipped to do the work necessary to move himself in his wheelchair. Still, he manages to make it across the room and to the nightstand where his phone is waiting for him. 

Perhaps it isn’t his place. But something tells him it is. He pulls up his contact list and dials before he can rethink it. The line rings twice before the other end gets picked up.

“I-It’s Oliver. I need you to come here... Something happened to Felicity.” 

\-----

Felicity feels as though she’s been run over by a freight train.

Granted, she has no real idea what that must feel like but given that her whole body feels leaden and her head is pounding like it’s been repeatedly bashed between a pair of cymbals, she feels confident that it’s at least a reasonably close comparison. 

Blinking, she takes in her surroundings through a fog that seems to hang low and omnipresent within her brain. 

She sees Oliver, slumped in his usual chair at her bedside. His head is tucked against his chest and his eyes are closed. His hand is on hers as usual and with a little effort, she wiggles her fingers just to make sure she still can. 

Well, at least she still can use her arms. Her memory, however, feels clogged and she can’t recall what happened to lead her to feeling this dreadful. 

A soft sound on her other side draws her attention and she’s surprised to see her mother sitting in a chair on Felicity’s left, squished between the wall and her bed. There are deep circles under her mother’s eyes but after a moment, Felicity realizes that in actuality, it looks like her mother’s mascara has run.

Why would her mother be crying? And why are both her mother and Oliver asleep at her bedside, definitely looking worse for wear? 

Oh. Whatever it is, it can’t be good, and it clearly has to do with her. _ Frak_. 

Before Felicity can further ponder (more like _ obsessively worry _ ) over what has happened to bring her mother and Oliver to her bedside, Doctor Schwartz enters the room with a light knock. She smiles as she steps inside and Felicity feels a glimmer of hope. Maybe it isn’t _ that _bad, if Doctor Schwartz is smiling at her? 

“You’re awake! That’s good. And it looks like I’ve woken up your support system. Sorry guys, but I think you’re all going to want to hear this,” she explains as she moves swiftly to the foot of Felicity’s bed and falls still. At Felicity’s side, both Oliver and her mother stir. Oliver’s attention shifts quickly to Felicity and he sits up straighter when he realizes she’s awake.

“Hey.” 

“Hey yourself,” she responds weakly, offering him a ghost of a smile. 

“Oh honey,” Felicity is prevented from saying anything further as her mother wakes enough to clutch her daughter’s hand, sniffing sorrowfully. “You gave us such a fright!” 

“About that,” she breathes, feeling like she has to fight for each word, “what happened?” 

“Well, thanks to a cerebral angiogram, I have an answer to that question for you,” Doctor Schwartz informs the huddled trio. “Felicity, you started slurring your words and you complained of head pain. Thankfully, your nurse came in and was able to see that you appeared to be experiencing a stroke. We were able to medicate you and rush you up for tests to determine what was happening and how we could fix it. We inserted a catheter and were able to guide the tube into vertebral artery. We then used the tube to inject a dye into your blood vessels that allowed us to get a clear picture of what was going on in the arteries around your brain and neck.” 

This is a lot. And with her muddled brain she doesn’t feel like she’s taking it all in. But it feels scary. She’s scared. Should she be scared? She’s totally scared. 

“That’s quite alright,” Doctor Schwartz smiles kindly down at her and Felicity blanches. 

“Did I say that out loud?” 

“You did.” Oliver smiles at her and pats her hand tenderly. “So at least we know the babbling part of your brain is intact.” 

“How tragic.” 

“Hardly. I’d call that a small miracle,” Oliver counters reverently and Felicity can only roll her eyes at him before Doctor Schwartz resumes her explanation.

“Based on the imaging that we did using this contrast dye, we know now that you didn’t have a traditional stroke. You had what we call a ‘TIA’ - a transient ischemic attack. It’s essentially a more mild version of a stroke and the effects are usually not permanent. As near as we can figure, your surgery caused a small blood clot and that, coupled with your heightened blood pressure at the time of the event, caused the TIA. Now, I won’t lie, a TIA isn’t great. And it puts you at an increased risk for another episode, or a full blown stroke. But we are going to take all necessary preventative measures to try to keep that from happening.” 

Her head is spinning and Felicity is at least 95% certain it has nothing to do with her mini stroke and everything to do with the information she’s just had unloaded on her. 

“Now, I want you to take the rest of the day today to relax but tomorrow, we’ll discuss what our action plan is going forward. Your pharmaceutical therapy includes some IV tPA drugs - which stands for tissue plasminogen activator - which should hopefully dissolve the clot and help you recover from this episode. There will also be some changes to your physical therapy regime, which Mister Diggle can talk to you about tomorrow. But for now? Relax and rest. Doctor’s orders.” 

Felicity manages to mutter some sound of agreement before Doctor Schwartz leaves but she feels incapable of anything else. _ She had a mini stroke_?! She’s not even in her thirties yet and she’s had a _ mini stroke_! Felicity can feel her energy and her spirits spiraling until she feels as though she’s in total freefall. 

She’s not even capable of moving the better part of her body. Her orders have been strict - lie down and don’t move. Essentially her orders have been to ‘do nothing’. And somehow, Felicity has found a way to do ‘nothing’ wrong. She can’t even lie still without messing it up! How useless is she?!

Her eyes slam closed and she tries to block out the world but all she can do is berate herself in silence for her inability to just _ heal _ like a normal person. Why is this so hard for her? Why can’t she just pull herself together and get better? Why does every scrap of progress have to come with a major backslide? At this rate, she’ll _ never _ get released, she’ll _ never _ get out of this neck brace, which means she’ll _ never _kiss Oliver, or walk with Oliver, or dance with Oliver. And the very notion of never doing any of those things sends her spiraling in a whole new, miserable way.

The TIA is just the latest in a long string of complications and setbacks. 

And the more she dwells on it, the more impossible her situation feels. She can’t walk, can’t even turn her head, and now she can’t even be still without a new problem rearing its ugly head. It’s all too much and suddenly, she’s overtaken by tears that come roaring upon her. Are these quiet tears that she can swallow back and hide?

No. She’s bawling like a fool suddenly and she can see the panicked light that enters Oliver’s eyes as he processes what’s happening. His concern only makes her cry harder because _ she totally doesn’t deserve it_. She squeezes her eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of him so worried about her, and she gives herself over to the tears and the hurt and the anger and the frustration. 

Felicity is still in her head, lost in her depressing thoughts when she feels fingers drum against her hand insistently. Slowly, she realizes her hands are clenched into fists and that Oliver has been tapping his fingers against her hand in a quiet, insistent request to hold her hand. And the kindness of that simple gesture is enough to make her cry harder.

It’s only the sudden, completely unexpected sensation of his finger on her cheek that stops her and with a ragged gasp she opens her eyes to find he has wiped away her tears from her face with a gentle, careful touch. 

She hasn’t had anyone touch her face like that in so long. Touching her face is so off limits and so so _ so _ out of bounds that the sudden return of physical contact like that? It stuns her into silence. Looking up at him through watery eyes, she can’t believe that he’s real. _ This _is her guardian angel. The man who quietly and with extreme care wipes away her tears. 

Wow. 

\-----

Donna is taken aback by Felicity’s sudden outburst of tears. Her initial reaction is to ask what’s wrong, to spring to her daughter’s aide. But when she begins to get to her feet to do precisely that, Oliver simply holds up a hand to stay her, his eyes pleading as he looks at her.

_ I’ve got this_, his body language says. Donna nods faintly and sits back down, transfixed as she watches Oliver touch Felicity’s hand with calm familiarity. But when his fingers weave through Felicity’s, instead of growing calmer, Donna’s daughter grows somehow more distressed. As if this kindness has done her in. Again Donna’s inclination is to help but again, Oliver asks her not to with a simple look. 

This time, as Donna watches, he raises his hand to touch her face. Donna sucks in a breath, keenly aware that this is off limits and that this could go horribly wrong if Oliver misjudges. But somehow, she can’t bring herself to protest.

Like her daughter, Donna has found herself quite taken by this young man and she trusts him a great deal. Enough to entrust her daughter’s safety and wellbeing to him in this tense moment. 

She can tell the moment that his finger makes contact with Felicity’s cheek; the crying disappears in a surprised inhale and Felicity’s eyes are open once more, staring in disbelief up at Oliver. And in that moment, Donna can see the love that passes between the pair, so stark and so pure that it makes her misty eyed (not that it matters at this point, her mascara ran long ago and she hasn’t bothered to fix it). 

Her daughter is going to marry this man. Of that, Donna feels quite certain. Felicity just needs to let herself be open to the love that he pours out for her. Her daughter’s not great at that - the whole being open to other people thing. But for Oliver? Donna thinks her girl would be willing to make an exception.

“Hey,” Oliver whispers softly, his eyes trained on Felicity, “it’s going to be okay. I’ve got you, Felicity.” 

Donna’s own heart skips a beat at this raw display of love. This is an unspoken ‘I love you’, obvious even to her as an outside observer. Soft sniffling sounds come from Felicity and then she hears her daughter’s voice rise with crystal clarity through the otherwise quiet room.

“Tell me we’re both going to get out of here, Oliver.” 

Donna closes her eyes and buries her face in her hands. She understands clearly now why Felicity has broken down. And it’s fair. She herself can’t imagine being so young and struck down like this, fighting such a hard road to recovery. The TIA has scared them all; they’ve almost lost her twice now and none of them relish the repetition of the close call. 

“We are going to get out of here, Felicity,” Oliver answers her, his focus still wholly on Felicity. “And we are going to take a walk together. I am going to dance you around some old dance floor. And… we can check all the things off of your ‘to do list’.” He hints with a smile and while Donna doesn’t understand precisely what that means, Felicity seems to, judging by the teary smile she gives him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

\-----

He has to choose carefully. 

Ever since Felicity talked him back to sleep the other night, Oliver’s been mulling an idea over in his brain. Given his head trauma, some things take him a while to think through. And this? This is far too important for him to rush. 

He’s got a loose outline of what he wants to make happen. The idea came together over the course of the days and nights after Felicity’s childhood retelling. Oliver’s confident the specifics can be ironed out once he’s firmed up the list of his accomplices. 

But therein lies the dilemma. 

If he chooses the wrong staff member to recruit to his mission, they’ll nark on him and his secret plan will be blown to hell. So if he’s going to ask someone to participate in helping him, he has to have the highest possible degree of confidence that they’ll accept. 

He can’t very well gamble on something _ this _important. 

So the question remains: who should he ask to help? Granted, the staff as a whole seems more than willing to do just about anything for Oliver and Felicity. But given that what Oliver wants involves breaking no less than half a dozen hospital rules?

Well… he’s got to choose wisely. 

He could ask Barry. But Barry’s an anxious personality, not to mention twitchy and if he gets spooked, it could ruin everything. Doctor Snow’s a goody two shoes, so the likelihood of her breaking the rules seems slim. But tipping the scales in her favor, she _ did _ help Oliver decorate the ceiling for Felicity (and has also helped Felicity to expand on it in the subsequent weeks). Doctor Ramon is a possibility, but the guy is a chatterbox and Oliver’s not positive he can keep a secret - and if this is going to work, it _ has _to be a secret. Diggle is a hardass. Oliver has little reason to believe he’ll be okay breaking (or bending) anything outside of the weights at the PT room. And yet… when Oliver had pleaded to see Felicity’s face after having his eye bandages removed, it was Diggle who acquiesced. 

The choice is a difficult one. 

He can at least rule out the attendings - no need to involve them, especially when he’s fairly certain they’d all be flat ‘no’s anyway. 

So who to ask? 

He settles on Cisco in part for convenience sake - now that he’s more mobile, Oliver is able to be wheeled to Cisco for his speech therapy sessions and that means time away from Felicity. Ordinarily that’s the sort of thing Oliver detests, but in this instance, it means she doesn’t overhear him asking. As it turns out, Cisco is all too eager and Oliver has to remind the young doctor that this is a secret and one that could get them all into a fair bit of trouble if they’re caught. It’s imperative that he not spill the beans. Cisco assures him that he will be the epitome of discretion, but Oliver’s not sold. 

The other accomplice ends up having to be Barry - he’s the other member of staff that Oliver gets the most time alone with since he often wheels Oliver to his PT sessions, or his speech therapy sessions. Oliver’s able to explain the idea and then ask him on his way back from speech therapy. Though reluctant to flout hospital authority, Barry eventually agrees that the surprise will undoubtedly help lift Felicity’s extremely low spirits. With her welfare in mind, Barry eventually caves, though his guilt seems reduced when he learns he’s not the sole employee to sign on to help Oliver in this mission. Hopefully the two men will keep their mouths shut and perhaps knowing that he’s not the sole accomplice will make Barry less twitchy. 

Oliver can hope. 

Originally, he’d hoped to have more time - and to coordinate with the weather. But after Felicity’s TIA tanked her morale, he realized he’d have to move up his timetable. With her morale at an all time low, Felicity _ needed _the surprise. Tonight. 

Unfortunately, tonight is also a rainy night. _ And _Cisco’s day off. But when Oliver tells Barry that he wants to try and make it happen, he finds his accomplice is more than willing to pull out all the stops. A quick text to Cisco confirms that he’ll come in to assist and Barry begins to stalk the hourly forecast, looking for breaks in the storm.

If and when one happens, he’ll let Oliver know and they’ll do their best to duck Doctor Snow’s evening rounds. 

It’s a long shot but Oliver’s willing to risk it. He’d risk anything for Felicity, in truth. 

Oliver is alive with a restless energy that evening. By the time Doctor Snow circles by for her second set of evening rounds, he’s a jittery mess and even his heart rate gives him away. The good doctor comments on it as she updates Oliver’s chart, telling him to try and do some of his breathing exercises to keep calm and insisting that she’ll hurry back if he hits the button for help. 

_ For crying out loud Queen, keep it together_. If he’s not careful, he’s going to ruin his own plan before it’s even gotten off the ground. 

A few minutes after Doctor Snow leaves, there’s a knock at the door and then the door opens to admit two figures. Barry and Cisco are both on tiptoe as they enter the room and Oliver can only roll his eyes. The lights are off in the room but in the light from the windows, Oliver can see Cisco is dressed like a cat burglar, complete with ski mask and he’s trying to convince Barry to wear one too, judging from the whispered argument they’re having as they enter Room 320, pushing a gurney between them.

“I’m telling you, these are what will complete the ensemble!” 

“I have no ensemble to complete, Cisco, I’m not dressed in black from head to toe like you!” 

“Dude, come on-”

“I said no!”

“GUYS!” Oliver stage whispers, drawing both of their attention. “How about a little less arguing, a little more jailbreaking?” 

“Oliver…?” Felicity queries from across the room, confusion and worry painting her voice in a very maternal light. “What’s going on?”

“I have a surprise for you,” he answers simply as he sits up and, with Cisco’s help, transfers himself over into his wheelchair. 

“And that surprise involves dressing up like thieves?” 

“No, that’s all Doctor Ramon’s doing,” Oliver dismisses with a wave, only for Cisco to throw up his hands in exasperation.

“You told me to take this seriously, bro. I’m trying to avoid drawing attention.” 

“And you don’t see how you being dressed like that is actually going to draw _ more _attention?” Barry remarks, his brows raised as he shakes his head. The nurse makes his way carefully to Felicity’s bed and begins prepping her to be moved. 

“The point is, I have a surprise,” Oliver talks a little louder, a little more forcefully, hoping to remind both his accomplices of the real goal here, “and in order to share it with you, we have to go a little rogue. So Barry and Cisco here agreed to help me slip us out of our room between Doctor Snow’s rounds.”

“Oliver, I don’t know about this,” Felicity hedges nervously. Now in his wheelchair, Oliver tries to scoot himself over to her, only for Cisco to quickly wheel him over. 

“Felicity, I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen. We’re not going far. Just far enough - you’ll see. It’ll be worth it. Pinky swear.” He offers his pinky before him, holding his breath as he waits to see what she’ll do. She stares at his finger for a moment and then quickly takes it in her own, exhaling as she does so.

“Pinky swear...Alright. I’m in. Just… please Barry, make sure I’m detached from everything. I live in serious fear of ripping an IV out accidentally, the way they do intentionally on TV.” 

“That’s totally misleading, you know. You can’t just rip an IV out the way that they do, it would be way more painful and traumatic than they make it out to be-”

“Barry? Not helping.” 

“Right. Sorry! I will make sure you are completely detached and that everything is set for you to be moved. No worries.” 

When Barry has Felicity mobile (or as mobile as she gets these days) the group rolls out into the hallway, Oliver and Cisco in the lead, Barry and Felicity trailing along a little ways behind. While Cisco _ does _ get more than the occasional odd glance, Oliver’s beyond relieved when they make it to the elevators without incident. As soon as the doors close behind them with a victorious little _ ding_, Oliver breathes easily for the first time that entire evening.

“Not far now,” he grins at Felicity, who is watching everything from a supine position on the gurney. 

“When we get there, can this thing angle me up into more of a sitting position?” 

“Oh! Yeah, I can do that now!” Barry jumps and begins to modify the gurney as requested, until Felicity is propped up a little more. Her eyes find Oliver as the elevator continues its ascent and he can’t help the self satisfied grin he wears.

“What’ve you got up your sleeves tonight, Queen?” Felicity teases gently but he just shakes his head by way of answer. 

“You’ll see,” he answers her with a boyish smile, “but for now, I need you to close your eyes.” 

\-----

Even with her eyes closed, Felicity knows the moment that they’ve left the hospital. And it isn’t the sound of the elevator _ ding _that gives it away. It’s the feel of the night air, the smell of it. There’s no mistaking it for anything else. Nothing in this sterile hospital can compare to the raw taste of it. 

They’re outside.

The air is cool on her dry skin, a balm to her body after the _ weeks _she’s spent indoors, without a refreshing breeze or new sights. She’s desperate to open her eyes now but she refrains, instead glorying in all her other senses as they’re assaulted with the change of scenery.

_ Outside. She’s actually outside. _

She can smell the crisp, brisk quality of the air and the hints of city smog mingling with the faint echo of fresh rain. Her nostrils must be quivering like an animal’s but she can’t help herself; she sucks in air like it’s going out of style. She gulps it in great heaving breaths, so happy she could cry. 

He’s brought her _ outside_. She can’t stop thinking this realization, she’s so overwhelmed in the best possible way.

There’s the muted, faroff sound of traffic and the distant wail of a siren but mostly, there’s the expansive sound of _ space_. She’s not sure how to describe it; but indoors, there’s walls for sound to be contained by and reverberate off of. But now, outside? The sound just carries and grows distant; the lack of echoes and reverberations tells her that they’re in open space. 

The wind is faint and gentle; it tickles at her skin and carries strands of hair away from her head and neck, cooling the sweat that has formed there on the long, stealthy trip here. 

There come the soft sounds of Barry stabilizing her gurney and Cisco doing the same for Oliver’s wheelchair. In an undertone, she hears the men conversing.

“Okay, remember, you text me as soon as you’re ready for us to come get you. And if something happens - like if there’s an emergency requiring _ that_, or if Doctor Snow’s next set of rounds are getting close-”

“I know, I know. You’ll come get us immediately. I remember the plan. I am the one that came up with it, remember?”

“No funny business.” 

“On my honor.” 

“Alright… you two have fun.” 

And just like that, there’s the quiet sounds of two sets of feet walking away, leaving her and Oliver alone.

“Felicity… Are you ready?” Oliver asks and Felicity is beside herself at this point with eagerness. She doesn’t know _ where _ they are precisely but _ they are outside_. She hasn’t seen ‘outside’ in _ weeks_. 

“_So ready_,” she gasps back, her whole body trembling with excitement. 

“Okay… You can open your eyes.” 

The night sky looms above her; intermittent clouds amble lazily across her view as stars wink down on her. She’s so lost in the wonder and the beauty of it all that, despite herself, she feels tears slip down her cheeks. The city lights twinkle around them and in the distance she can see tiny pairs of headlights and taillights illuminating the network of streets below. 

He’s brought her to the hospital roof; the helipad is just there, the helicopter sitting silent but ready, it’s motionless blades poised and waiting to spring to action. It’s a good thing she’s still in her neck brace because it’s all Felicity can do not to move around and take in all the sights; there’s so much to see and so much to breathe in. Rising above the surrounding buildings, off in the distance, she can see the Queen Consolidated building. She quickly identifies other familiar landmarks and she drinks in all of it, so happy for the change of pace. In time, her eyes turn to the heavens and she can’t help but smile.

He’s brought her outside. She wonders if he has any idea just how profound that gift is. He might think he has an idea but he can’t possibly.

_ This is everything. _

“What do you think?”

Oliver’s voice sounds hesitantly from beside her and it’s all Felicity can do to control herself.

“What do I think? _ What do I think? _ … Oliver… it’s _ magical_. Y-You gave me the sky!” She can’t help the sheer wonder that pitches her voice and betrays the depth of her emotions on this. 

“I can’t send you to space camp for eight weeks; your mom isn’t the only one who wouldn’t be able to bear you being gone that long,” Oliver confesses shyly, “but I hope this is an okay alternative. It’s not quite as fancy as what the astronauts see but I did the best I could, all things considered...” 

Emotion closes off her throat and her eyes bulge at the implication of his words. As he turns her gaze to him, she sees the portable telescope in his lap, and the nervous smile on his face.

All of this… all of this because she mentioned wanting to go to space camp and that once upon a time she wanted to be an astronaut? He..._ he remembered_? That silly, unimportant story actually stayed with him? 

“H-How did you remember that? _ Why _did you remember that?!” She can’t help but be amazed that he would bother to devote brainpower to remembering something as inconsequential as this stray detail from her childhood. 

“Felicity… it was about you. How could I not remember it? You… You’re my favorite subject.”

His words throw her for a loop, though in a good riding-a-rollercoaster kind of way. She’s speechless for a moment, unable to fathom what in the world she’s done to deserve such compassion and devotion. From the moment he entered her life, he’s been selflessly doing everything in his power to help her.

She owes him so much. 

“Oliver… thank you,” she breathes at last, when the tears threatening to overwhelm her have been temporarily beaten back. “I… I can’t tell you what this means to me.” 

“Maybe instead… you can tell me the names of the stars in the sky?” He slips his hand through hers and she smiles shyly before lifting her eyes back to the sparkling canvas of space above them. 

“Absolutely,” she agrees as she searches for a good starting place. “Okay, follow my finger. Do you see these stars here? Those form Sagittarius. Sagittarius is a centaur and the word is Latin for ‘archer’. If you kind of squint and think really abstractly, the constellation looks kind of like a teapot. Sagittarius is actually the largest constellation in the Southern Hemisphere and it’s one of the easiest to spot with the naked eye because it’s made of so many really bright stars. And fun fact, it’s located in the middle of the Milky Way Galaxy!”

Felicity catches herself; she’s rambling. That probably wasn’t a fun fact to someone who isn’t a space nerd like her. And he’s probably bored to tears.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t a fun fact, I’m babbling. I’ll shut up now,” she apologizes and Oliver is quick to rebuke her.

“Don’t apologize, Felicity! I love when you babble. And if _ you _think it’s a fun fact, then I definitely want to hear it. I don’t know about space. But I can learn.” 

She’s overcome with the longing to kiss him in that moment and the frustration of being unable to do so is so potent, that now she’s fighting off angry tears. _ Pull yourself together, Smoak_. She already promised him a kiss. And now, she’s promised him a walk and a dance too.

Their moment will come. Felicity believes that. She _ has _to believe that.

She takes a steadying breath and refocuses, enjoying the warmth of his hand around hers as he continues to stare upwards at where she pointed out Sagittarius. Holding hands may not be much to some but it has taken on newfound import during her time here. Never has holding hands felt as intimate as it does when Oliver is the one holding hers, running his thumb across her knuckles, or pressing soft kisses to her palm.

She can and will survive on these simple, soft gestures until they can do more. And they _ will _do more. In time. Bolstered by this thought, she returns her attention to the sky and the smattering of stars and constellations visible between the wisps of cloud cover. 

“Alright. Over here? That’s Scorpius. It looks kind of like a hook, see it…?”

They stay out on the roof for well over an hour; Felicity coaches Oliver through using the telescope, since she herself can’t use it. She recites from memory the names and stories behind the constellations and he dutifully soaks it all in, asking questions here or there but mostly, just listening as she talks. 

Limited by her neck brace, Felicity has a restricted view of her surroundings. So, she doesn’t quite see that half of the time, Oliver’s eyes are following her finger as she traces her way through the stars. The other half of the time? His eyes are on her, watching her joyously share her love of space with him. She doesn’t see how his eyes dance every time she smiles, or how his lips twist into a natural, easy smile every time she falls silent as she stares up at the sky above. 

Fortunately, she doesn’t have to see him to know how deeply he cares; that, she knows just by the fact that he planned all of this for her, that he’s here at her side, listening to her ramble about Aquila and Capricornus, Corona Australis and Ophiuchus. And he doesn’t complain or nod off. He just sits at rapt attention, making her feel as if the entire world is right here, on this roof. 

And maybe in some ways, _ her _ entire world _ is_. 

All too soon, Barry and Cisco arrive and quietly rouse them from their intergalactic adventuring, informing them that Doctor Snow is going to begin her next set of rounds, so they have to get back. It’s a quiet elevator ride back. All the while, Oliver holds Felicity’s hand in his. As the metal vessel hurtles back towards the Intensive Care Unit floor, Oliver’s fingers gently lay her palm open flat and he begins to draw. As he does so, Felicity can’t help but smile shyly. 

He’s drawn a star on her palm. And a moment later, he draws a heart too. 

She wonders if he knows just how much he’s given her tonight. Can he possibly know? Giving her the stars in the sky would have been gift enough. But he’s done so much more than that. Tonight, he’s given her courage. He’s given her strength. He’s reminded her that there’s an entire universe out there waiting for her. She must be patient with herself and someday, she’ll return to it. Oliver may not know it, but he’s also reminded her of one incredibly empowering thing:

Felicity Smoak is made of stardust. Everything she is was once a star, until that star exploded in a bright, brilliant supernova. If the very stuff she’s made of could survive that, it can survive whatever life will put her through.

If that’s not an uplifting thought, she doesn’t know what is. 

Someday, maybe she’ll get to stargaze with him again. And maybe next time, they’ll be able to lay down on a blanket beneath the stars, snuggled up together. But for now? For now she’ll enjoy returning to the small little slice of the universe that’s theirs. For now, that means the four walls of Room 320. But someday? Someday they’ll explore so much more together. He’s shown her that tonight. And no amount of near paralysis or TIA will stop them. 

With him encouraging her, there’s nothing that will stand in their way. 

They are made of stardust. There has to be some magic in that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Elley, who had the beautiful idea that Oliver take Felicity star gazing to help boost her spirits!! I couldn't do this story without her amazing beta-ing powers! <3


	5. Chapter 5

When they arrive back in their room following their late night stargazing, Felicity finds that Oliver’s surprise? It didn’t end when they were ushered back into the hospital. As Barry wheels her inside their room, it’s instantly obvious what they’ve done and she can’t help but feel utterly giddy over it. 

While she and Oliver have marveled at the stars in the sky, Cisco and Barry have been busy recreating the night sky inside of Room 320. They’ve covered both the ceiling and the walls with countless glow in the dark star and moon appliques. Everywhere she looks, there’s a soft, greenish glow from the stars they’ve spent the last hour or more putting up.

And while they’re by no means astronomically correct, it doesn’t escape Felicity’s notice that they’ve even applied a few of them in the shapes of the Big and Little Dipper. 

Not bad for a Nurse and a Speech Pathologist. 

“Do you like it?” 

Oliver’s voice is a bit hesitant as he’s wheeled inside the room after her. Felicity can’t find the words to answer him at first, too overwhelmed by the emotions rising in her throat.

How? How is it that the sweetest man she’s ever known has been placed in her life right at the time when she seems to need him most? How is he _ this _thoughtful? How is he able to continually surprise her? And how can he continually outdo himself? 

_ How is she ever going to repay him for the kindness she’s shown him? _ How, how, _ how_?!

Thinking about repaying him for this latest kindness, however, seems to shake something loose in her brain and suddenly, the stars and the moons aren’t what she’s thinking about repaying him for.

“I love it,” she answers him at last, her voice hushed and weighed with emotion. They don’t say anything else for a spell; Barry and Cisco work together to transfer Felicity back to her bed, ensuring (at her request) that she’s propped up into a sitting position. Oliver manages the transition from wheelchair to bed with a little assistance from Cisco, while Barry ensures that all of Felicity’s monitors and leads are in proper place and working order. 

With a pair of high fives to Oliver and much conspiratorial grinning, the two staff members bid the pair goodnight, Felicity and Oliver’s ‘thank yous’ echoing behind them as they leave. For just a minute, the two are left in silence and relative darkness, with just the green glow of their indoor sky and the moonlight from the window to guide them.

Then, Felicity finally finds her voice. 

“Oliver,” she begins, steadying herself. 

“Felicity?” His voice is a mixture of hopeful anticipation and nervous unease. She understands all too well. 

“I’m remembering more… from the TIA. Your mom was here, looking for you. She saw- … well, that doesn’t matter. What does matter is you weren’t here and I was. I told her you were at PT and one thing led to another and the point is, I kinda… definitely got into an argument with your Mom…” she trails off anxiously. 

“Welcome to the club of people who’ve gotten into it with my Mother. I’m sorry to tell you, it’s not a very exclusive group - I think everyone who meets her bickers with her. Or wants to, anyway,” Oliver offers at an attempt at witty banter. Felicity offers a short, nervous laugh but her heart isn’t in it. 

“Umm… Your Mom… Oliver she said some things.” 

“I’m sure she did. I heard a few of them, actually,” he confesses and this takes her back because _ he heard them? _Uh oh. 

“How much did you hear, exactly?” 

“Enough to know my Mother was being unreasonable. Which unfortunately, is hardly a new look for her.” 

“Oliver… Your Mom seems to think that I arranged all of this - us being neighbors like this - as a way of swindling you out of your money.” 

“Felicity, I was here and awake when they brought you out of the sedatives they had you under when you were in traction… It’s literally not possible for you to have schemed all this. I know that. And more importantly, I know _ you _\- I know you aren’t motivated by my family’s money. That’s not the person you are.”

His vote of confidence makes her pause to center herself because _ oh wow_. It’s one thing for _ her _to know she isn’t motivated by such greedy purposes. It’s another thing entirely to hear him state his unequivocal belief in her and she feels her heart skip a beat in response.

“Thank you for that… for believing in me. I’m sure it would be easy not to.”

“Felicity… believing in you is the easiest thing in the world for me.” 

_ Oh wow wow wow_. She feels the heat in her cheeks and she’s grateful that they’re sitting in the dark together so that he can’t see how much his words have touched her.

But she still has one thing left to ask him. And while she didn’t intend to blurt it out so suddenly, she finds the words rush out of her, as if they have a mind of their own.

“Oliver did you… did you _ pay my hospital bill_?”

Thunderous silence follows the question, punctuated only by the faint sounds of their monitors beeping or clicking. She hears him shift in his bed and then he clears his throat before his voice sounds, clear and untroubled. 

“I did. I was going to tell you - eventually. But I wanted you to focus on healing first, without having to also worry about how you were going to afford to get better.”

“There was no grant, was there? You arranged for me to have PT with John.”

“I did.” 

“Why… why would you do that?”

“I would love to say that I would have done it for anyone but that would be a lie. Felicity, the truth is that I care about you. And I saw a chance to help you. It didn’t cost me anything-”

“-it literally cost you thousands!” She can’t help herself. She has to interrupt because of course it cost him! It has been the very definition of a cost!

“-I was going to say ‘it didn’t cost me anything except money - and I’ve got more of that than I could spend’... Your hospital bill, Felicity? In the scheme of things for me, it didn’t make a dent in what my family has. But it would have been a large amount to you... I saw an opportunity to make your life better by taking care of it. So I did... There aren’t any strings attached or any expectations I just… I wanted to do something to help you since you have helped me so much.” 

The playful side of her wants to tease him that her babbling must be contagious because he’s just gone on quite the ramble (and with very few pauses - he’s improved so much!). But the rest of her is too busy drowning in emotions because Oliver ‘gave her the sky as a gift’ Queen thinks that _ she’s _ done a lot to help _ him_? 

What universe is he living in?! She hasn’t done anything compared to what he’s done for her! And the scales are only tipping further and further out of balance, the more he does these grand gestures for her. 

“Oliver, you can’t pay my hospital bill. That’s… that’s _ insane_.” 

“Blame it on the traumatic brain injury!” 

“Oliver!”

“I already did, Felicity.” 

“Then I’ll pay you back.” 

“You already have.” 

“Oliver!!”

“What?”

“Be reasonable. That’s too much. And besides, what am I going to do come tax season?! I can’t afford the taxes on a gift like that!” Honestly, she was reaching at this point, looking for any excuse for him not to pay her bill. But Oliver had come prepared. 

“I had my accountant check it out. Since I paid the hospital directly, it doesn’t count as a gift, so it isn’t taxable to you. You’re in the clear.” 

Of course he knows this. Of course his incredible, life changing, enormous, generous gift will not come back to bite her. Of course. Because this is _ Oliver _and he’s far too thoughtful to allow his gift giving to create problems for her. 

If only _ she _were as good at this as he is. 

“Oliver, I can’t accept this. It’s too much. I’ll never be able to repay you for it.” 

“Felicity, I’m telling you… You already have. You’ve gotten me through a traumatic brain injury and near blindness. You can’t put a price tag on that.” 

“That’s not the same as paying someone’s entire, expensive hospital bill.” 

“You’re right. What you did was much bigger.”

God she wants to kiss him. Stubborn, generous, insistent man that he is. 

“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?” 

“No. No you’re not.” There’s so much joy in his voice at this, she can’t help the wry smile that slinks across her lips. 

“You’re remarkable, Oliver Queen. You know that?” 

There’s a beat of silence as he soaks up her words and then, in true Oliver fashion, he responds by turning her compliment of him into a compliment of her. 

“No, I’m just neighbors with the remarkable one.” 

Though they both go to bed pleasantly worn out after the conversation ends, like clockwork, they’re both up hours later as per their now usual routine. Felicity awakens in pain and Oliver follows soon after, thrashing in his nightmares until Felicity can gently rouse him with her voice. 

Instead of telling stories of her childhood, tonight she continues her rooftop education on the stars in the sky and even expands it to discuss the planets in the universe. After a spell, Oliver eventually nods off and Felicity is left awake and alone in the dark and the quiet. 

Snaking a hand over the side of her bed, she feels blindly around for her tablet. Now that these late night talks have gotten to be a habit, she’s begun having her tablet left on the edge of the nightstand so that she can grab it on her own.

Powering it on, she pulls up the note she had been working on earlier. She reviews the code once more and a sense of satisfaction grows within her.

The code is perfect - at least in theory. Now she just has to build the dang thing. But she tackled a supercomputer at seven; this should be easy (...ish). 

Using the stylus pen, she resumes working on the schematic she had been drawing up when Oliver’s mother first walked in and found her. At the top of the page, the title written in her looping scrawl remains the same now as it was then.

_ **Operation Oliver** _

Moira had thought it was some sinister project to trap her son. Felicity knows it’s her best shot at repaying him even an ounce of the kindness he’s shown to her. She fiddles with the stylus for a moment and then she dives back in on her design, changing a few of the components and altering the look of it.

Yes. This. This is what she’s going to do for him as a thank you for all that he has done for her. And damn it, she’s going to make sure it’s _ perfect_. Because he deserves nothing less. 

\-----

She stays up entirely too late working on her gift for Oliver. In the morning, Donna appears on the scene with coffee and Felicity is thrilled because caffeine? It’s definitely a requirement if she’s going to stay awake long enough to talk to John about her new PT regime today. 

Her delight is short lived, however; neither she nor Oliver are allowed to keep their cups of Joe. Apparently the caffeine is deemed to be too much for both of them at this stage in their respective recoveries - Oliver with his TBI and her with the recent TIA.

What’s with the ‘T’ acronyms having it out for them and their morning coffee? Sheesh. 

Felicity tries her best to hide her fatigue - Oliver will assume she’s tired because he’s kept her up and she can’t tell him the truth or she’ll spoil the surprise of her gift. So she tries to muddle through the morning as best she can. But by the time John arrives mid morning, Felicity is dragging - _ hard_. 

“Okay Felicity, ready to talk about your new PT plan?” John grins as he sweeps into Felicity and Oliver’s shared room. Felicity is awake, if only barely, sandwiched between her mother and Oliver. 

“As ready as I’m going to get!” Felicity confirms, trying for a smile. Her recovery feels like it’s a constant game of one step forward, two steps back. It’s hard not to get discouraged but thankfully, Oliver and her mother have both been cheerleading her and building her up even more than normal ever since Doctor Schwartz explained her TIA episode to them. 

And of course, Oliver’s surprise has reenergized her in a way she never could have predicted.

“Good. I’ll take it. Queen, get your butt in gear. You’re headed for the PT floor. Barry’s coming to wheel you down while I talk with Felicity,” John explains and Felicity watches Oliver make a face at John but nod reluctantly, his gaze sliding back to her. 

“Behave yourself while I’m gone,” he teases. 

Felicity chuckles lightly. 

“I’ll try.” 

As Oliver waits on Barry, John steps closer to Felicity. After a quick introduction to her mother (who Felicity can tell, is already eyeing John’s muscular arms approvingly), John settles down to business. 

“Okay. So here’s the deal. Your PT regime is being modified. Essentially, we’re taking the most conservatively aggressive approach that we can. And yes, I realize that sounds like an oxymoron and it is. We have to protect your spine first and foremost. But we need to push the rest of your body so that we reduce your risk of a repeat TIA or a stroke. It’s going to be a balancing act but I’m willing to try it if you are. So Felicity, are you with me?” 

Felicity beams up at him despite the knot of fear in her stomach. 

“Absolutely John. I trust you.” 

And she does. He’s given her no reason not to. And if he’s the one who is going to try and guide her back to some semblance of normalcy, she’s got to have faith in him. 

“Okay. First things first. Today we’re going to do all the exercises we’ve been doing but we’re also going to add on a lot of new ones. You’re going to have homework to practice a lot of these moves on your own. Some of them though, I want you to have me or one of the medical staff present for. Just to be safe. Got it?” 

“Got it!” She’s all smiles as Barry slips quietly into the room and begins to help Oliver into his wheelchair. 

“Alright. First, I’m going to talk you through how to sit up on your own.” Felicity can’t help the quiet gasp of surprise she gives at this news. _ She’s going to sit up!! _ John smiles at her and nods, understanding just how momentous this is for her. “Yeah, I know. Exciting stuff, huh? We’ll also review some leg exercises I want you doing. Now, you ready for the _ big _reveal?” John asks just as Oliver and Barry slip out of the room, Oliver waving silently at her as he goes. Felicity waves a hand his direction and then turns her focus entirely back to John.

“Ready!” 

John smirks, glancing behind him a moment after Oliver and Barry disappear from view. Shaking his head, he turns back to Felicity, crossing his arms before him.

“The big news is, once we get you sitting up comfortably, we’re going to work on bed to chair transfers, because starting next session, you’ll be going to the physical therapy room for your sessions. You’re stable enough for us to move now, and having you down there will give us a lot more options to work through some of the exercises I’d like to do with you-.” 

“I… I’m going to get to leave the room?!” Felicity interrupts in disbelief as her mother squeals joyously at her side, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly. 

“Oh sweetie! This is wonderful!” Her mother’s joy is contagious and Felicity can’t help the little laugh she lets out at the very idea of getting out from within the confines of these four walls. Just last night, Oliver snuck her out and reminded her there was a world waiting for her. And now, today, her world is expanding.

Oliver Queen is magic. She’s sure of it. If anyone could will this development into reality, it’s him. She’s sure of it. But John isn’t done surprising her.

“Yes, you get to leave this room. Because Felicity, we’re going to try to get you standing next session.”

All the air seems to disappear from the world and she struggles to comprehend what he’s said. Even after processing his words for a minute, Felicity can only grin dazedly up at John, feeling for all the world like the luckiest woman alive. Tears have sprung to her eyes and she’s distantly aware of her mother animatedly talking and celebrating beside her but Felicity is still trying to wrap her head around it all.

She… She’s going to _ stand_. 

Then another, perhaps even more wondrous idea strikes her and jolts her out of her delirium.

“John… can I ask two favors of you?”

Her physical therapist looks at her and pretends to study her for a moment before he grins and nods.

“Of course you can.” 

“For one… Please don’t tell Oliver? I want this to be a surprise. He’s going to be so excited and I just… I need to surprise him with this. _ Please. _ It’s important.” 

Diggle tilts his head at her in surprise, his smile slowly deepening before he acquiesces. 

“Alright. I can keep Queen in the dark. And the second thing?” 

“Can we please plan my session… when I stand,” her voice trembles over the word because wow - that’s actually going to happen, she’s going to _ stand_, “-so that my session overlaps with Oliver’s? I… I’d really like him to be there to see me back on my feet for the first time. I just want it to be a surprise.” 

It’s not anywhere near as amazing a surprise as him giving her the sky last night. But perhaps it’s a small start to repay him for everything he’s done for her. And somehow she just knows that seeing her stand for the first time? It will delight him. 

And that’s one step closer to them taking a walk together. She owes him a walk, among other things. And given their stargazing last night? She wants to return the favor so badly it hurts. Her gift to him is still in the design stages and it could take her ages to pull it together. She needs to do something for him here and now though and this? Surprising him by standing? That would be incredible. She’s quite certain he’ll be thrilled, though it feels a little boastful to think she’s so important that her progress would excite him. But she’s confident that it would - after all, any progress of his delights her. She knows he feels the same. She’s sure of it.

“That depends. Are you going to be able to focus on the program if Oliver is down there at the same time as you? I’m not running a dating service. If you’re just gonna ogle him, that’s not going to help anybody.”

“John!” Felicity cries in surprise, her mouth hanging open in shock at John’s bold question. 

“Well honey, in Mister Diggle’s defense, that is a fair question. Oliver _ is _a bit of eye candy and I can see how having him around would be distracting for you…” Donna offers up smilingly and Felicity feels as though her jaw must be on the floor.

“_ MOM! _”

“What? Felicity sweetie, don’t pretend like you haven’t noticed his jaw line or those arms of his,” Donna tuts, completely unapologetic. 

“Oh my god,” Felicity moans, wishing she could sink right into the mattress of her hospital bed. Instead, she takes a deep breath and refocuses on John, who is chuckling quietly next to her. “I promise I will be able to focus. If anything, I’ll probably focus better with Oliver around, honestly. And it doesn’t need to be every session I just… I really want him there if and when I do stand up again…” she trails off shyly but to her surprise John doesn’t give her a hard time.

“Alright. Then we can absolutely make that happen.” 

“Really?”

“Yes Felicity. Making the schedules line up is easy. The hard part is the standing and that’s on you, which is why I want it to have your full attention - not Oliver. Understood?” 

Felicity gulps and sucks in a breath. Hearing John say that her part in all of this is going to be hard isn’t news, but it drives home that her life is nowhere near what it once was. Where once she would have stood without a second thought, now the very idea fills her with joy and simultaneously, fear and dread. (What if she makes a mess of this too?)

“Understood.”

It doesn’t matter how hard it is. If she stands, Oliver will be overjoyed and that is motivation enough to endure any hardship.

“Good,” John nods approvingly, “now, let’s get to work on sitting up and bed to chair transfers so that you’re ready for standing next session, okay?” 

“Yes! Absolutely, let’s sit up!” 

Though she’s still exhausted, the news that she will attempt to stand in her next session has acted as a powerful energizer for Felicity. She keeps envisioning the surprise on Oliver’s face when he sees her on her own two feet. And even in her imagination, his reaction is glorious - she can’t wait to see the real thing.

They practice the bed to chair transfers several times and though it’s tricky and makes Felicity fret each time she attempts it, she bears it without complaint. This is necessary to get to stand. All that matters is standing now and she will let nothing hold her back from that. After her fourth successful bed to chair transfer, John tells her she’s had enough practice and gives her a break. The rest of her exercises are easier - and learning to sit up on her own is so empowering she breezes through her practice attempts with gusto. 

Still, when John leaves her to head back to the PT wing for Oliver’s session, Felicity is bathed in a light sheen of sweat from the exertion her session has demanded. She can’t even begin to imagine how thoroughly exhausting it will be to get back on her feet but she welcomes that fatigue with open arms. 

“Baby you did so good!” Her mother croons beside her, smiling fondly down on her daughter as she brushes damp strands of hair from her face very carefully. Felicity relishes the gentle contact and it’s not lost on her that her mother has only been brave enough to touch her face - however gently - after seeing Oliver blaze the trail. 

Thank the stars above for that man because Felicity has been so starved for physical touch that each whisper of skin on hers is like manna from Heaven. 

“Thank you, Mom,” Felicity sighs warmly and grabs her mother’s hand in hers to give it a firm squeeze. “And thank you for being here.” 

“Of course sweetie. You know I’m always here for you.” 

“I do,” Felicity whispers softly, yawning despite herself. She needs a nap but there’s little chance of that with her mom beside her. Now’s the best time for it though - Oliver’s gone and she can cram in a little shut eye without him getting all guilty over having kept her up last night. 

But now is also a time when she could be working on his gift unseen. Hmm. 

“Mom, can you do me a favor?” 

“Of course. What do you need honey?” 

Felicity rattles off the list from memory, to which Donna frowns, puzzled, but does not question. After assuring her mother that she can text her the specifics, Donna gathers her things and quickly presses a kiss to her daughter’s hand.

“Okay Felicity, if you really want this stuff now I can go grab it.” 

“I do! But Mom, if Oliver is here when you get back, don’t let him see any of it, okay? I’m working on something to give to him and it has to be a surprise.” 

“What are you giving him?” Donna asks curiously and Felicity gnaws at her lip and then suddenly smiles.

“...Peace.” 

Donna raises a brow in curiosity but doesn’t force the issue, for which Felicity is immensely grateful. Explaining it would just… it would be too hard and would entail revealing a bit more of the deepening friendship between herself and Oliver than she’s willing to share just yet. Her mother already thinks something is going on between them. No need to add fuel to that fire by telling Donna that they talk each other through the pain and nightmares that jolt them awake night after night.

Her mother would urge her to adjust her meds. And perhaps she should. But then she’d miss out on talking him through his night terrors. And that’s not a sacrifice she’s willing to make. He needs her; what’s a little hip pain waking her in the night if it means she can help Oliver? 

“You seem to be doing an awful lot of surprising Oliver these days,” Donna points out, changing the subject (albeit only slightly) with a grin and Felicity closes her eyes, unable to help the flood of warmth rushing into her cheeks. 

“He’s done a lot for me, the least I can do is try to return the favor,” Felicity tries to justify it but Donna just clucks and shakes her head. 

“I think we both know it’s more than that, sweetheart. And I’m happy for you. Just… make sure you don’t get so wrapped up in surprises that you forget to actually _ say _it,” Donna advises and now it’s Felicity’s turn to look puzzled.

“Say what?” 

Donna finishes gathering her things and drapes her coat over her arm as she stares down at her daughter appraisingly and with a loving smile. 

“You know what, Felicity. I know actions speak louder than words but those three words? They have to be said as well as seen. You need to tell Oliver as clearly as you’re showing him. Saying that? … It’s important.” 

Her mother taps the door frame once before she departs the room, leaving Felicity awash in a complicated wave of emotions. It’s easy to say she needs to tell Oliver. But actually doing it? That’s far harder. In time, she will. But for now? She’ll stick to showing him. There’s no need to rush things, as far as Felicity can tell. 

\-----

Between Felicity’s usual long talks with Oliver, her new PT exercises, her secret work on building Oliver’s gift, and her mother’s visits, the rest of that day and the next pass in a blur. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, her big day has arrived. 

Today, Felicity Smoak is going to stand on her own two feet again. 

She’s vibrating with nervous energy all morning and Oliver, ever attuned to her moods and her energy level, is quick to comment on it as the minutes barrel past, bringing her ever closer to the big moment. 

“Okay Smoak, fess up: what’s going on?” 

“What do you mean?” She answers back sharply and too quickly. He tilts his head and studies her seriously for a moment, clearly concerned.

“You’re on edge and jumpy and you tossed and turned all night. That’s not like you.” 

“I’m just… I’m stir crazy. I’m finally starting to feel better and I’m still stuck in this bed. It’s enough to drive a girl mad!” 

Oliver frowns and nods, not pressing the issue. Felicity almost feels bad for hiding the truth from him but what she’s said isn’t exactly a lie either - she _ is _going stir crazy and the itch to get out of her bed is enough to make her lose sleep. Thankfully, she’s about to get out of her bed - she just can’t let on to Oliver that that’s happening. 

Before he can comment on that, however, Barry and John show up and Felicity relaxes; reinforcements. 

“PT time! Let’s go Queen,” John directs as he steps into the room, grinning as he goes to Felicity’s side of the shared space. Oliver stares at the two critically for a moment and then focuses on the work of getting into his chair, assisted by Barry. 

“Oliver, I’ll meet you down there. Felicity, if you want to practice some of the moves you learned last time, I can supervise you now. Let’s see what you got for me,” John offers, easily providing a cover story as to why he’s staying behind with Felicity while sending Oliver ahead. Dang, he’s good. She’ll have to remember that so she can recruit him later if she needs additional help surprising Oliver. 

“Good luck. You’ll do great!” 

She’s all smiles as she bids Oliver goodbye, delighting in the grin he gives her in response. 

“So will you. Come on, give me a break Diggle. Let me see her sit up _ once _before I go, eh?” 

John crosses his arms before himself and shoots Oliver a look that screams ‘Seriously?’ but after a moment of contemplative silence he sighs and relents with a nod. Felicity grins and with Oliver watching, she pulls herself up into a sitting position just the way John’s shown her. And though she can’t turn her head to look for him, she can feel Oliver’s eyes on her and when she completes the maneuver, she finds him staring at her with such rapture that she can’t help but blush.

“Wow. You see that, Diggle? She’s really something,” Oliver remarks with genuine awe and Felicity bites her lip to try and bite back a shy smile. 

“That she is. Alright, off to PT with you, I’ll see you in a few. Felicity, let’s have you do a couple more sets of that move, you did really well at moving safely. Let’s see if we can replicate that…” John directs, trailing off as he stands before her encouragingly while Barry and Oliver get situated and, eventually, wheel their way out of the room. John gives it all of thirty seconds and then he’s out in the hallway and he returns with a wheelchair meant for her. 

“Alright, you remember how to do the bed to chair transfer that we practiced?” 

She takes a deep breath and nods. This is the big leagues. 

“Good. Let’s see it now; I’ll be right here for you, so there’s no pressure. You can do this, Smoak.” 

Encouraged by John and motivated by Oliver, Felicity pulls herself up and swings herself to the chair just as they’d practiced. She’s distantly aware of John praising her and talking her through some things as he wheels her from the room, but in truth she’s too worked up to focus on any of it.

She’s going to stand today. 

She doesn’t remember a lick of the trip from her room to the PT wing. But as John opens the doors for them and pushes her inside, her eyes scan the room with single minded purpose. He’s across the way, his back to her, currently seated at a machine that has him doing leg exercises. But as the doors behind them swing shut, John summons Oliver.

“Queen! Get over here. I’ve got something new planned for you today.” 

When Oliver turns from his vantage on the machine to glance John’s way, Felicity sees the shock pass through him, making his body go rigid and his eyes flare visibly.

“Felicity?!”

A mile wide smile splits his face in two and he’s suddenly all too eager to abandon his machine in favor of joining Felicity and John. And though Felicity has planned today to be a surprise for _ him, _ suddenly _ she’s _ the one being surprised as Oliver - slowly and with great care - _ walks _over.

For all the focus on _ her _ standing and _ her _walking, seeing him do so? Well, it’s thrilling given the severity of his leg wounds and how insistent John is about Oliver being wheeled to and from PT. But watching him now, walking towards her with a careful (but in her eyes ground eating) stride? 

Felicity is probably every bit as surprised as Oliver is. She had no idea his recovery had been progressing so fast. And if he’s recovering this well, he’ll surely be discharged soon. If possible, the importance of this surprise - and the one she’s been working on with her tablet - has just increased tenfold. If Oliver is going to be released soon, she’s got to show him just how much she cares. 

But first things first: she’s got to surprise him by standing. And that’s going to take some doing on her part. 

“Play it cool, Queen.” John teases his other patient before he guides Felicity to a clear space in the room, not far from a double set of just above waist height bars. As Oliver draws nearer, Felicity can see the question in his eyes but she’s so nervous now that the moment has actually arrived, she can’t find the words to explain. 

Thankfully, John is all over it for her. 

“Alright, so today is a pretty big deal for Felicity. It’s not just her first time here in the PT Wing - it’s also going to be her first time attempting to stand since before the accident,” John explains and Felicity feels Oliver’s joy with an almost concussive force as he looks from John to Felicity in complete and utter surprise.

“Seriously? Felicity… That- That’s amazing!” He sounds breathy and the note of disbelief in his voice makes her heart pound a little faster and a little harder in her chest. 

“You’re right Oliver, it is amazing. As you can imagine, this is a pretty big deal for her,” John nods, turning the focus back to her, “Felicity, you can expect that your legs are going to be a lot weaker than the last time you stood on them. That’s okay. You’ll regain that strength back. For now though, just be prepared for that weakness. And don’t be upset by it, okay? Oliver and I will be on either side of you for support. That is, of course, if Oliver feels up to holding you?” 

Her eyes haven’t left him this entire time so Felicity sees the way Oliver’s nostrils flare and his eyes widen at the very idea of getting to help hold her up but he’s nodding almost the moment he’s processed the words.

“Yes. Yes, absolutely.” Oliver looks almost buzzed, he’s so deliriously happy and Felicity is glad that, if nothing else, she’s at least achieved the element of surprise by showing up here today at the same time as him. If she fails in standing, at least she’s accomplished making him smile. 

“Alright. Let’s do this.” John throws on the locks on her wheelchair and Felicity sucks in a breath. This is really happening. 

Her eyes remain trained on Oliver and she wonders if he can see the worry and the fear etched on her face; though excitement has been building in every moment leading up to this, now that the time has come, Felicity is _ terrified_. Wordlessly, Oliver touches her hand with his and then he allows his fingers to trace up her forearm to the inside of her elbow, then back down to her wrist. His touch is a welcome distraction from her nerves and for a few seconds, she’s able to lose herself in the simple contact.

“You’ve got this, Felicity. I’m right here. I won’t let you fall,” he assures her and she swallows nervously.

“I know you won’t. I trust you.” 

No, she knows by now that she can place her trust completely in him. What she’s really worried about, what she can’t stop wondering, is just how hard is this going to be? Is she ever going to be able to walk normally or will even this most basic skill become a hardship? 

There’s only one way to find out. 

“Ready to go for a walk?” John asks and Felicity’s eyes flit momentarily to her physical therapist.

“Mhmm,” she murmurs none too convincingly. 

Her mouth has gone completely dry and Felicity has to try and center herself. It’s exciting, to have reached this critical juncture in her recovery. At the same time though, it’s nerve wracking. She has to relearn how to walk. There are literally toddlers the world over doing a better job of it than she is presently. This is so much more complicated than she had envisioned - everything she knows about walking is out the window now, thanks to her injury. How much more will she have to relearn? How is she going to do this? 

Sensing her distress, Oliver’s good hand seeks out one of hers and he gives her an encouraging squeeze. 

“You’ve got this. Just pretend this is another class you’re going to get an ‘A’ in,” Oliver grins at her and Felicity snorts despite the seriousness of it all. 

“Joke’s on all of us; I _ never _did well in P.E.” 

“Come on. It’ll be as easy as holding my hand. Just give it a shot.” Though she tries not to, she can’t help but flash him a nervous, slightly unsteady smile.

“Well in that case, I’m going to totally rock this standing thing. Because my hand holding skills are totally on point. Oliver can back me up here, John. I’m really good at the hand holding. We’re talking solid A minus territory.” 

“I’d venture so far as to say A plus,” Oliver beams at her as John waits for the pair to settle down before beginning his instructions.

She focuses on his directions and carefully (and not without a little fear) she does as he says, unable to help but be surprised at how difficult the simplest motions now feel for her, having to move her body in new ways and forcing herself to utilize muscles that have sat unused for weeks now. In short order though, her feet are off of the foot rests on the wheelchair and touching on the ground and her body is poised at the edge of her seat, ready to make the next leap in her recovery.

\-----

Watching Felicity struggle with basic movements, Oliver can’t help but marvel at the inner strength she’s displaying. Oliver can see her mouth moving, and he’s fairly certain she’s attempting to swallow down her nerves, though it’s hard to say for certain, her neck not being visible and all. Her eyes shift anxiously to Oliver and land on his with a wild desperation. She clings to his gaze as though it’s a life raft. And maybe for her, it is.

“Remember: it’s as easy as holding my hand,” Oliver whispers the reminder to her with a grin. 

John instructs her delicately on what to do with her legs and Oliver can’t help but feel overwhelmed _ for _her, having to relearn how to walk. It’s a lot. When Oliver gets the all clear from Diggle, he goes to her left side while Diggle takes her right and together, they help ease her onto her feet as she pushes off on the balls of her feet and does the unthinkable.

She _ stands_. 

\-----

The distance from the wheelchair to the floor feels like an impossible hurdle. But with the help of her guardian angels, Felicity’s doing it.

She sucks in a steadying breath as her slipper sock clad toes touch hesitantly on the floor, her toes splaying for balance as the rest of her foot eases onto the tile. It’s disorienting at first; it’s as if she’s forgotten what it’s like to live standing vertically. 

But disorienting or not, she’s doing it - _ she’s standing_. 

A shudder runs through her body even as her legs shake subtly beneath her weight but she’s not about to call it quits now. Her grip on Oliver and John is like iron, her grip white knuckled with the strength of it as she holds fast to him. Slowly, her eyes leave Oliver and travel down his body and onto the floor, where she tries to stare at her feet without moving her neck.

“I-I...I’m doing it!” Felicity gasps, turning her gaze back to Oliver in wonder. 

“You’re _ standing_!” Oliver is positively beaming at her now. And keeping this secret from him? It was worth it for the simple look of utter satisfaction and glee dancing on Oliver’s face. 

This day has never been a guarantee - the risk of paralysis has always loomed as a realistic possibility. But despite the odds, Felicity stands before Oliver now, growing brighter and more joyous as she regains the pieces of herself and her independence that have been missing for so long now. 

She hasn’t messed this up. She’s standing. For all her failures before, she has still reached this moment. It’s enough to bring her to tears that she does her best to swallow down. Felicity doesn’t want to miss a single moment of this due to a few measly tears. She wants to remember every moment of this, all of it.

This is the moment that everything changes. This is the moment her recovery stops being hypothetical and starts becoming a reality. 

\-----

Somehow, impossibly, she becomes even more beautiful as she bears her own weight and stands before him for the first time ever. And it isn’t because she’s standing - because he’s loved her, every bit of her, since this whole ordeal began, before he could see her, before they knew if she would be permanently paralyzed or not. No, she grows more beautiful because he can see how making progress towards her goal returns some of her confidence and it is that confidence which makes her somehow, shine brighter than before. 

She’s metamorphosing right in front of him and he can’t take his eyes off of her. She’s somehow larger than life and smaller than he imagined all at once as she stands alongside him. The height difference is so perfect, she’s at just the right height for him to kiss her forehead or the crown of her head. He of course resists because he can’t risk jarring her neck, but the temptation is there, as is the knowledge that _ someday_? He’ll be able to do precisely that. 

She’s vibrant and strong and full of life and he simply cannot take his eyes off of her. She is, in a word, exquisite. She is light personified. And he loves her for it. 

John gives Felicity calm instruction on how to safely maneuver her body to get up out of her own bed, though this comes with the stern caveat that she must only attempt this with him present. He next shows her how to get into and out of a regular chair unassisted, explaining the appropriate ways for her to manipulate her limbs and body so as to protect her fragile spine. Again, she is told that she can only attempt this with supervision for the foreseeable future. 

It’s a lot to take in and there’s plenty to be wary of but Oliver can see how Felicity is drinking in Diggle’s words, keenly absorbing everything he says. She’s more fiercely independent than her time here would lead one to believe. And Oliver knows how enthused she is at the prospect of regaining some of her former self sufficiency. 

He’s just happy to see her so happy. And the fact that she sought to surprise him with this just makes him downright _ giddy_. For all she claims he’s done for her, he’s never attempted anything nearly as daring as she has just now, standing on her own two feet for the first time. It’s so damn brave he wants to sweep her into his arms and kiss her and hold her close. 

That not being an option, he just settles for wearing a stupid grin that he can’t shake. Felicity is standing. She’s facing her recovery - and all the scary things that entails - head on. And she’s doing it so boldly he can only admire her resolve and seek to match it himself. He’s so swept up in watching her (totally awestruck by her, as ever) that he misses that Diggle is talking to her. When he shakes himself back to the present, he realizes Felicity is having her limitations spelled out for her by their therapist.

“Now, I know you’re going to want to sit up and practice getting out of bed and out of chairs a lot but remember: this is a marathon, not a sprint. You cannot rush healing. If you’re going to sit up in bed, you need to take breaks every 30-45 minutes. And substantial breaks, not just a few seconds. Do you hear me?” John explains pointedly and Oliver watches Felicity’s eyes tear themselves away from staring at her feet so she can regard John instead.

“Yes! I hear you. Plenty of breaks. No overdoing it. Trust me, I don’t want to give my spine any reason to fall to pieces again. There’s too much to look forward to after I get this brace off,” she remarks pointedly, her eyes flit momentarily to Oliver and he narrowly bites back a smirk at this reminder.

They’re _ both _ looking forward to the day she gets her brace off. After all, she _ did _promise him a kiss. 

Satisfied with Felicity’s firm assurance that she won’t attempt anything that might reinjure her spine, John nods. As the PT continues watching her and instructing her on her posture, Oliver feels the physical therapist’s gaze on him and reluctantly, he tears his attention from Felicity. Diggle is staring at him intently, and Oliver gets the distinct impression that the other man is sizing him up. After doing so though, Diggle seems to decide that Oliver has passed muster.

“Well then, in that case… I’m going to let you go now, Felicity, but Oliver will still be holding onto you. If, of course, that’s alright with you, Oliver.” 

His heart stutters in his chest. 

“A-Absolutely.” Oliver stammers. _ He’s going to get to hold her in his arms_. How could he say no to that? 

“Are you ready, Felicity?” 

Her hand grips Oliver’s so tightly it hurts but he doesn’t give any outward indication of it. Instead, with his cast bearing hand, he lightly draws across the back of Felicity’s hand.

_ Y-E-S-? _

Shockingly clear blue eyes dart to meet his and the nervous set of her features flickers, replaced momentarily by a small grin as she answers John, her eyes never leaving Oliver’s. Already, he can feel her relaxing into his touch and a little of the strain seems to flee her posture.

“Yeah John… I’m ready.” 

John’s hand opens and he slowly takes a step away from her, leaving her standing alongside Oliver with only slightly unsteady feet. 

“I promised you a walk,” Felicity sighs as she clings to Oliver, now with both hands. “I think we’re going to have to go really slow for our first one. But if you’re not opposed to the idea, maybe we can build our way up to something more substantial.” 

When he turns to look at her face to face, he finds a lopsided grin on her lips, even as the trembling in her legs grows a little more pronounced as they take baby steps around the room. 

“I’ve got all the time in the world; take as long as you need, Felicity. I’ll be here.” They both know that he isn’t just referring to the walk. Whatever speed they need to take this, whatever ‘this’ is? That’s fine by him. He’s just glad to be along for the ride. 

They move very slowly around the room, pausing frequently for her to catch her breath. Her brow furrows with concentration as she pushes herself and he knows she takes it hard when they finally have to stop, having made it around ‘only’ half of the PT room. 

Before John comes to see her back to her chair, however, Oliver holds her close and leans his head down against her ear. 

“Thank you, Felicity. This was the best surprise.” 

Though her chest is rising and falling heavily with her ragged breaths, she flashes him a brilliant smile and the stormclouds in her eyes are chased away for a moment. 

“Yeah? You really didn’t suspect anything? I thought for sure I blew it this morning. Trying to keep a secret from you is really difficult, you know.” 

He smiles and shakes his head. Honestly, he would never have guessed in a million years what she had up her sleeves. By now he should know to expect the unexpected but Felicity continues to find a million and one ways to ‘wow’ him, no matter how high the bar has been raised. She’s just that stunning. 

“I had no idea. This… This was incredible. I can’t thank you enough for letting me be a part of it. I’ll cherish this memory...forever,” he admits honestly and he sees how she’s a little taken aback by this, her eyes a little glassy with unshed tears as she gasps a little more out of breath than she was a moment ago. It’s then that he casts a cursory glance to John, who’s distracted bringing over the chair. And Oliver knows it’s off limits; if he gets caught, he will be in a heap of trouble. But he also knows he will be the very essence of cautious. 

“For the record? This doesn’t count towards your list,” Oliver murmurs, prompting her to frown at him in confusion. But he doesn’t have a moment to waste; John could look up any second. Seizing the opportunity, Oliver presses the softest, faintest possible kiss to Felicity’s cheek, his lips just barely grazing her left cheekbone. Her skin is like velvet beneath his lips and pleasantly warm and he’s falling completely head over heels for the sensation of kissing her - even if it is just a kiss on the cheek. _ For now. _

\-----

His lips ghost across her skin and the simple action, however chaste, is so intimate that Felicity can’t help the way she inhales sharply. Somehow, Oliver is able to infuse so much import into just this simple, innocent kiss. There’s almost a warm familiarity to it and at the same time it’s so exhilaratingly new for them that Felicity is suddenly wobbly and woozy for reasons that have nothing to do with the fact that she’s just walked.

Oliver kissed her cheek. He. Kissed. Her. Cheek. But only after making it abundantly clear that this kiss? This kiss doesn’t count towards her list. He kissed her, not the other way around. _ She _ owes _ him _a kiss. And he still expects her to pay up.

No worries there. After the stunt he just pulled? She’s got half a mind to rip this damn neck brace off with her bare hands just so she can kiss him the way she’s dying to. But the whole risk of permanent paralysis thing acts as a pretty good checks and balance system.

Still. She’s on cloud nine when John makes it over to them and helps her sit back down in her wheelchair. And a good thing too - that kiss, even if it was just on the cheek, has left her dizzy. Wow. Wow wow wow. Between the kiss and what Oliver has said to her - about cherishing this day and about taking all the time they need, about going slow? 

Well, Felicity’s feeling pretty damn good and she’s riding high. PT is off to a _ really _great start. The best start, arguably. And somehow, her standing and walking for the first time post-accident are not the highlights of today. The highlight is now that kiss Oliver planted on her cheek; she can still feel the warm, pleasant tingle where his lips touched her face and part of her hopes that sensation never goes away. But if it does, she hopes he’ll be right there to kiss her again and again and again. Because his kisses? 

They’re pretty remarkable. 


	6. Chapter 6

Felicity is of almost single minded focus over the coming days. She is adamant about getting her gift to Oliver done but she needs to buy herself time away from him to work on it. So though it kills her a bit to do it, she talks to John about shuffling PT schedules around so that she and Oliver are at separate times. He gives her a sideways glance but agrees without question, for which Felicity is grateful. 

Physical therapy isn’t nearly as thrilling without Oliver there; she likes being able to watch him and see his progress. And if she’s being honest, she _ really _likes having him there to hold her hand and support her. But Felicity tells herself to muscle through because every hour of PT without him is another hour spent working on his gift. And his gift? It’s more important than making PT fun for herself. 

The gift she has planned is going to help his quality of life once he’s out of this hospital. And having seen him at PT now? Felicity knows that day is fast approaching. Oliver would probably beg to differ but it has not escaped her notice that his speech is nearly perfect. And when Diggle signs off on allowing Oliver to wheel himself around the hospital, Felicity practically hears warning bells start ringing in her head.

He’s going to get discharged. And soon. Her gift must be ready before that happens. The problem is… she can’t do it. Not only is she out of practice - she’s out of range. As in _ range of motion. _ Because she has _ none. _She needs assistance, painful though it is, she’s big enough to admit it, if for no other reason than because to labor under the assumption she can go it alone would be to risk not finishing the gift in time. And Oliver’s wellbeing is too valuable to jeopardize in that way.

Her mother has helped by purchasing materials. But Felicity needs more than that. She needs assistance, being as physically limited as she is, it’s not exactly feasible for her to do some of this herself at present. So she recruits the next best person at her disposal. 

Well, Alena would probably be the next best. But Alena’s on a business trip for her tech startup. And Iris, though sweet, isn’t so great at the techy stuff. So the next, next best person is who Felicity turns to.

Doctor Snow. 

When Felicity explains herself to Caitlin, she’s delighted that the doctor doesn’t chide her or in any way discourage her from completing her project. Instead, to Felicity’s great joy, Caitlin seems positively thrilled to be in on it and she offers her assistance straightaway. And in that manner, Felicity and her co-conspirator begin spending the hour of Oliver’s physical therapy together, working diligently on the gift. What Felicity cannot physically do, she coaches Caitlin through. It’s a slow system at times but they begin to find a rhythm to it. Having the gift to focus on proves to be a good stimulus for Felicity. She feels even more like herself with something techy and cutting edge to focus on. Every hiccup they encounter, every technological snafu or bug? Felicity irons them out with meticulous attention to detail. 

The gift must be _ perfect_. Anything less will simply not suffice. This gift has to be there for him when she can’t be. This must bring him the peace he so desperately deserves but which seems so hellbent on eluding him. 

Felicity just hopes that she’s equal to the challenge. 

\-----

Oliver is frustrated. Beyond frustrated, actually. He’s mad as hell. And for the last week and a half, he’s taken it out on the weight benches and workout equipment in the PT wing. The PT wing where, since Felicity successfully walked again, Oliver’s had to go to his sessions without her. It chafes at him that their sessions aren’t overlapping. He _ wants _to see her recovery unfold in real time, damn it! He wants to bear witness to each step. He wants to be there to hold Felicity’s hand again. 

But instead, he’s here with Diggle.

“Oliver… You need to be honest with yourself.”

With a sharp exhale, Oliver closes his eyes as Diggle’s words reach him. He finishes his last set of leg exercises for the day and right away, Oliver knows he’s not going to like what his physical therapist is about to say. It’s in the tone. He’s gotten to know Diggle pretty well over the course of his PT journey and that voice? Yeah, it’s Diggle’s ‘bad news’ voice. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Oliver inhales slowly and then reopens his eyes to blink at John.

Together, they both turn their attention to the other side of the room, where Felicity is laying on the table as Diggle’s assistant, Sara, moves her limbs in a series of exercises to help limber her up - her session has just begun. Oliver has intentionally dragged his feet and overstayed his own session just to be able to see her down here, exercising and flourishing. Her PT is progressing steadily but slowly; there’s a delicate balance being walked between protecting her vulnerable spine while still pushing her body physically to keep her risk of blood clots and a repeat TIA at bay. 

Oliver knows that, in Felicity’s mind, it’s passing with excruciating slowness. From talking with Diggle, he knows that her therapy has been accelerated as much as is safe for her. And she’s thriving, this he knows just by looking at her. 

“Felicity is improving as quickly as can possibly be hoped, given her situation. And I am glad you were here for her when the TIA happened. But Oliver… you can’t keep waiting around here and putting off _ your _healing to be present for hers. It’s not what she would want you to do. It’s time for you to get discharged.” 

Diggle’s trying to be gentle, Oliver can tell, but his words still cut like a knife. And ordinarily, coming clean about what he’s feeling is not Oliver’s style. But he’s learning - albeit slowly - that he needs to be open about his feelings if he’s going to get better. The success of his multitudes of therapy - physical, mental, and verbal - all hinge on his ability to be honest. Transparency? That’s part of honesty, as it turns out. So though it feels wrong to do it, Oliver opens up to Diggle and says aloud that which has rapidly become one of his biggest fears in here. 

“Digg… What if I leave and something happens to her? I’ll never forgive myself.” 

“Oliver, you can’t live your life in fear of ‘what ifs’ man. You’ll drive yourself crazy. The fact is, you stayed because she needed you.But let’s be real. You stayed for her as much as for yourself. And I respected that. Because that arrangement benefitted you both at the time.”

“Yeah, maybe I did but Diggle, she doesn’t want me to go. Having me around still helps her. How am I supposed to leave her?” 

He can’t. It’s as simple as that in Oliver’s mind. 

“You two got each other through some tough stuff. No one is denying that, Oliver. But as best as we can tell, you’re through the worst of it. Now you both need to buckle down and work on returning to some degree of normalcy. For you, that means you need to let yourself be discharged.” 

“And for her?” 

“She needs to relearn how to be alone. Hear me out. You both have become codependent on each other in here and it’s not healthy man. I know-” he raises a hand, heading off Oliver’s objections, “-that you both care for each other and that you help each other. I’m not questioning that, no one is. We’ve all seen the proof of that in your charts. But at some point, you both need to relearn how to function independent of one another. And neither of you can do that for as long as you’re sharing a hospital room.” 

“But-”Oliver begins to protest, only to be cut off by Diggle giving him an alarming reality check. 

“Oliver, do you want to trip up Felicity’s recovery? You want to set her back?”

“Of course not!” 

“Then you need to hear me, man. I know that you care about her. But sometimes caring for somebody means knowing when to remove yourself from the equation for their benefit. She’s never going to learn how to navigate on her own if she’s got you there doing everything for her. She needs to figure out how to move with her new limitations and she needs to do that on her own. And _ you _need to figure out how to cope with your night terrors or a PTSD episode without her there to talk you down. I’m not saying it will be easy or even fun. And I’m not saying you guys go cold turkey and ditch each other. But some space, some distance? ...It’ll help you both. And it will give her something to work towards - it might just get you both out of this hospital and back to some degree of normalcy faster than staying in here together would.” 

Oliver broods silently, turning Diggle’s words over and over on his tongue. The very idea that his continued presence is somehow delaying Felicity’s recovery makes him feel ill. Is he holding her back? If he is, how has he missed the signs? Or is Diggle wrong? Oliver’s all twisted up inside as he considers the possibility and grudgingly, he admits to himself that he can see merit in Diggle’s argument. But he’s still not ready to ship out and leave Felicity just like that. 

The best he can do for now is to take Diggle’s words into consideration and think on it. 

\-----

Oliver’s restless when he makes it back to the room after his session. And though Diggle has granted him permission to wheel himself around the hospital, he feels as though there’s nowhere to go. Well, that’s perhaps not entirely true. He knows exactly where he _ wants _to go - the PT wing to watch her session. But Diggle has given him the boot and after the conversation the two had earlier, Oliver isn’t exactly looking to poke the bear. Upsetting Diggle at this point would be a boneheaded move. Diggle has the power to get him discharged today. And if Oliver wants to stay here (which he most certainly does), he can’t bite the hand of the man that is, figuratively, feeding him. 

It’s over an hour later before Felicity is brought back up to the room in her wheelchair. She’s worked up a good sweat and her skin has a healthy glow to it as she does a careful chair to bed transfer and settles in with minimal assistance. And seeing her this way? Her cheeks flushed with exertion, her eyes bright and an easy smile on her lips? He loves it. How can he leave this and miss out on the moments like this, when she’s riding an adrenaline high from walking and pushing her body to new levels as she pursues her recovery? The answer is simple: he can’t. He loves being here with her. He feels more purpose here, beside her, than he has fumbling around in the footsteps of his father at the family business, or anywhere else in his life on the outside. Why go back to fumbling when here he feels certain and useful and valued? 

After Barry sees to it that Felicity is comfortably situated in her bed again, the nurse departs, leaving the two neighbors alone together once more. Before Oliver can say or do a thing though, Felicity struggles up into a sitting position, breathing a little more heavily than normal as she does so. Clearly, PT has worn her out but for some reason she’s not about to let herself rest. Odd. 

“So… I may have gotten you something,” she begins shyly and right away, Oliver is _ buzzing. _She’s gotten him something? What could she possibly give him beyond what she already gives him each and every day?!

“Felicity, you didn’t need to get me anything,” he argues softly but she just flashes him a wide smile.

“Uh yeah, I did. Or have you forgotten that you gave me _ the sky? _Not to mention you paid my hospital bill. I definitely needed to get you something.” 

With a little gesture, she points to his nightstand. And it’s only then that he realizes there’s a small box sitting on it that he’s overlooked this entire time, too distracted eagerly awaiting her return to have noticed it.

“You can open it now, if you like,” she offers with a shrug, leaving the ball in his court. And Oliver will be damned if he leaves her gift for later. 

“I would like.” 

He grabs up the box and in short order, he’s pulling her gift out and staring at it in surprise and admittedly, a little bit of confusion. 

It’s a solid black sphere a bit bigger than a billiard ball but _ what _it is? He hasn’t a clue. Holding it up to face level for inspection, he squints at it uncertainly. There’s a small depression about fingertip sized and he pushes it experimentally. 

Light radiates across the surface of the sphere and Oliver is pleasantly surprised to see a moon and stars shining up at him. Looking to Felicity, he sees her smiling as she watches him, her eyes dancing. 

“It’s a night light. According to my reading, sometimes night lights can help with night terrors. The night sky one was just a way of thanking you for our stargazing trip...” she trails off quietly and Oliver looks to her with newfound appreciation. 

“You did this… just to help me sleep?” 

“And as a thank you. You’ve done so much for me, Oliver. I wanted to give something back to you, although this doesn’t come close to paying you back for everything.” 

“It’s perfect.” 

Suddenly, Oliver is reminded of Diggle’s earlier words of wisdom, encouraging him to tell Felicity how he feels about her. And he’s on the verge of doing so; this gift, this piece of thoughtfulness, feels like it could be an opportunity to do it. And yet…

He’s afraid to. He’s afraid she won’t reciprocate. He’s afraid of ruining the good thing they’ve got going here. The implied feelings feel so much safer than the honest to goodness, out in the open ones. Oliver doesn’t exactly have a lot of experience with being transparent about how he feels and starting now, with a relationship he cares this much about? It’s frightening. 

Better to just keep dancing around it. They have plenty of time - he’s not going anywhere. They’ll inch towards greater honesty. Their recoveries are marathons, not sprints, right? Why rush it?! He has a million and one excuses to justify not telling her, even as he’s reminded of how Diggle said that talking about your feelings was the ‘make or break’ for many relationships. But Diggle… he’s a physical therapist, not a relationship expert. Oliver knows what he’s doing. He’s playing it safe. Being cautious. 

Felicity? She’s too important to be reckless with. He has to go slow and be careful and above all else _ not mess things up. _So that means no brazen and foolhardy declarations today. It’s not the right time. 

“Felicity… you’re remarkable. Thank you, for this. It’s… It’s incredibly thoughtful of you.” 

“It’s the least I could do.” 

\-----

Felicity has been working all out on Oliver’s gift and despite difficulties with circuit boards and software bugs (all of which she’s managed to work out now), it’s progressing nicely. In fact, it’s finished, though she shudders to call it that because every piece of tech, in Felicity’s humble opinion, can use continued tweaking and fine tuning and of course, _ updating. _So even when Caitlin has helped her iron out the last glitches to the heart rate monitor and the voice software, she’s reluctant to give Oliver his gift. 

This… this feels _ final. _ And she’s definitely able to admit to herself that she’s a little insecure about giving it to him. With her gift (if it works as she hopes it will) he won’t have need for her. And while that’s a _ good _thing - he deserves to sleep through the night, after all - she can’t help but be a little selfishly sad at the idea that he won’t be waking up to keep her company when the pain meds wear off and she’s awake from hip pain in the wee hours. 

But fear, especially when it’s steeped in selfishness, cannot be allowed to win the day. So after she makes a final modification (allowing for Oliver to control and change notification colors, just in case a specific color proves more calming to him), Felicity determines that it’s time to give him his gifts.

The night light is an added idea, thought of as she worked on building his real gift. When she thinks of him waking in the middle of the night, alone in the dark, the image does not reassure her. She wants him to have light, wherever he goes. And once he leaves this room, the stars and moon glow in the dark appliques are probably not going to follow him.

But she can give him back a little piece of the night sky - and thus, the idea for the night light to accompany her main gift for him. So even if her creation fails to give him total peace, perhaps he’ll awaken to a room not pitch black and frightening, but bathed in a warm, soft golden light. 

Or so she hopes.

His response to the night light emboldens her. If he likes that so much, she’s hopeful he will like her creation. Fiddling her hands in her lap nervously as he sets aside the night light, Felicity works up the courage to give him the rest of his gift. 

“There’s umm… There’s more, actually.” 

Oliver looks at her in surprise, and then looks around the room. 

“There is?” 

“Yes but - you have to come over here to get it.” 

His brows lift in surprise but he complies. He swings easily into his wheelchair and wheels over to her bedside with a childlike eagerness and curiosity. Felicity smiles as he waits expectantly and she points to her nightstand. 

“Open the drawer. There’s another box inside.” 

Oliver does as she bids, pulling open the drawer in question. He withdraws the sleek black box within which, Felicity’s masterpiece lurks. She just hopes it lives up to her expectations and dreams. 

\-----

Carefully, Oliver withdraws the sleek timepiece from the soft material it is nestled on. The watch - for indeed, that is what it is at first glance - is well polished and gleams in the fluorescent hospital lights. As Oliver turns it over in his hands, the digital face springs to life, showing the time in bright white numerals. 

As he inspects it, he sees a symbol he doesn’t recognize on the back of it and he pauses to scrutinize it. The symbol seems like an interestingly designed ‘S’ but it’s not a logo he’s familiar with. And Oliver? He knows brands. If this is one he hasn’t heard of, it’s either cutting edge (and expensive) or a cheap knockoff. And this? This is _ not _cheap or knockoff quality. It’s an impressively built piece.

“Felicity, this is a really well crafted watch. It couldn’t have been cheap, I can’t accept this,” he murmurs as he continues to examine it with interest. 

“It’s alright. I know the designer. I got it for a steal.” Felicity teases softly, motioning towards him. “Put it on? It does more than tell time.” Oliver does so without question and as he fits the watch to his wrist, she directs him further. “Okay. Now you can swipe to the right and it’ll show you your stats.” 

\-----

She watches as he takes in the gift. One screen shows his heart rate and step count. Another shows his sleep cycles - or will, once he’s slept with it on. 

“So, it’s sort of an all in one. It’s a watch and a fitness tracker. It also helps you monitor your sleep cycle. But the important part of it is actually a different feature I built into it,” she explains shyly and Oliver goes stock still.

“I’m sorry… did you say you _ built this?” _His voice is alight with wonder and Felicity feels a flutter in her stomach at the awe in his tone. 

“Umm...yeah. I did. I just wanted to do something to help you sleep. You’ve been getting better so fast I just… I wanted to make sure that you had something to help you for the day when you’re discharged and I’m not around anymore.” 

It feels weird to talk of him leaving, especially since the very notion fills her with dread. But she’s seen the writing on the wall - surely he has too by now. She shouldn’t be afraid to speak about him getting better enough to leave the hospital but for some reason, saying the very word ‘discharged’ feels like saying ‘Voldemort’. 

It’s just wrong and creepy. 

“I don’t think we have to worry about that just yet,” Oliver reassures her in a quiet, rumbling tone and she smiles and bites her lower lip.

“If you say so. Anyway, the important part is what it can do when you’re asleep. The watch, it can monitor your vitals and when it detects that you may be having a night terror, it can help you ride it out. Right now it’s just set to play some prerecorded messages of my voice waking you up but it can be changed to music, a vibration pattern, a combination of those - all kinds of things. It’s not perfect and I’ll probably need to make some modifications with you wearing it in order to fine tune it, I just… I wanted to give you the peaceful night’s sleep you deserve. And I thought if we could stop the night terrors before they get into full swing, maybe we could do it.”

She falls silent then, afraid she’s rambled on too much and made things weird. Perhaps this was the wrong choice of gift. Too personal, too involved in his medical treatment. Maybe she should have gone for something less intimate. This is, after all, his medical history, his mental health and physical wellness. Perhaps he doesn’t want her meddling. She should have thought of that. Frack. What if he’s angry? 

Felicity is getting worried in the face of Oliver’s continued, prolonged silence when he finally tears his gaze away from her creation and onto her. She’s surprised to see tears lingering in the corners of his eyes.

“You… you built me a watch to help with my nightmares?” 

Unthinkingly, she gulps. Ordinarily she would nod rather than speak but, well, that’s not an option for her thanks to her neck cast. 

“I did… Is that okay?” 

\-----

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, he gives a laughing exhale and shakes his head at her. Is that okay? _ Is that okay? _ She’s built him hitherto unknown technology for the express purpose of helping his night terrors. Now only is that ‘okay’ it’s…. it’s _ amazing. _It’s thoughtful and kind and generous and insightful and a million other things. He’s at a loss for what to say in the face of this kind of compassion. This feels truly heartfelt. He had thought the night light was amazing but this? This is in another league entirely. 

“Felicity, it’s more than ‘okay’. It’s…” He trails off, searching for the right words. “It’s the most sincere and considerate gift. I can’t believe you _ made this _ for me. You really are indescribable.” He can see the color rising in her cheeks at this remark but that only encourages him, honestly. She _ should _be told how amazing she is. He’s never met anyone like her. 

As he continues to study the watch, something occurs to him and he looks at her with wide eyes. 

“That ‘S’ symbol on the back… that’s for ‘Smoak’ isn’t it?” 

Right away, she looks a little hesitant but Felicity isn’t one to lie in his experience and she certainly doesn’t start now. 

“Yes. I mean, sort of. I have an idea. And I know that before I said maybe I could get into R&D at QC. And I think I still would like to do that, in the near future. But long term, the idea that I have is maybe to - someday, obviously not now or anytime soon - start my own tech company. I mean, I love working for your family’s company, it's just, after being in here I have a lot of ideas for things I want to make that are really medically-focused and Queen Consolidated, it-”

“-isn’t really in the medical technologies field. I get it, Felicity. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. And I think you’d be crazy not to do it. This? This could help a lot of people, not just me. You should go for it.” Oliver cuts her off with his words of encouragement, and he means every bit of it. 

“So the ‘S’ - it’s also for your company?” Oliver knows he’s probably prying but he’s genuinely interested and he wants to know - if she’ll tell him.

“Yes,” she admits and he can see her wringing her hands nervously as her eyes land on his with a faint spark of uncertainty. “I was thinking of calling it ‘Smoak Tech’. Probably a stupid name idea, though.” 

“Not at all. You’re going to build an empire. It should have your name all over it. I love it.” 

Silence falls between the two as Felicity looks at him with shy appreciation and he drinks in the sight of her, just happy to be spending another day in her presence. 

Diggle is right. Oliver needs to tell her how he feels. But if actions speak louder than words, they’ve both said plenty. This watch has told him so very much and he’s not about to upstage her gift by making a declaration that could muck things up. 

They know how they feel. That’s enough for now. Diggle was wrong - waiting is better. 

\-----

A few days later, things are progressing well. And despite his protests that he has Felicity and he therefore doesn’t need the watch just yet, she makes him wear it so she can fine tune it to help him. And… it really does. The watch is able to detect the subtle changes in his body’s stillness, temperature, and his heart rate. When the watch vibrates his wrist, it often is able to help gently ease him from the deeper stage of sleep where dreams occur (REM sleep, Felicity informs him) and into a slightly lighter stage of sleep (a stage of NREM sleep, apparently). But if that fails (which it has a few times as they fine tune it to tailor it to Oliver), then there’s the safety net Felicity has built into it which eases him awake by playing recorded messages of Felicity’s voice, talking calmly to him as he wakes. She insists that she can change it to play music instead, but he won’t have it.

There’s nothing more reassuring to hear after a nightmare than the sound of her voice, telling him he’s going to be alright. 

“I think with that last adjustment, you should be set for now, Oliver.” Felicity explains as she finishes fiddling with the watch. It’s still relatively early morning, but she’s thought of some software patch to better help the watch be more responsive to Oliver. It takes him a moment to respond because he’s utterly enthralled in watching her work. Seeing Felicity in action working on tech is like watching Michael Jordan play basketball, or Babe Ruth play baseball. She’s an expert of her craft and watching such mastery is more than a little satisfying and inspiring. 

“I honestly don’t think you can improve upon this more than you already have, Felicity. The watch is _ incredible.” _ Oliver’s not putting on a false front either - this watch design of hers? It’s helped him already and he can see so much potential for it - and her - in the future. “The only thing it’s missing is a name. You can’t very well market it without one.” He’s only teasing but when she processes his statement, she comes up short and looks at him sheepishly. 

“Well… I had an idea for that. But you have to promise not to laugh. It’s...personal.” 

“Cross my heart.” 

She grabs her tablet up from the nightstand and with a bit of furious tapping, she grins and hands it over to him for his consideration. 

The screen is emblazoned with a font she’s clearly designed herself that reads in bold, clear, all capitalized letters ‘WATCHOVER’. The name is inked in vivid, emerald green and it practically leaps off the screen at him as he looks at it. The ‘O’ is the one letter to differ in font from the rest of the word. Instead, it’s spelled using blocky diamonds reminiscent of the Smoak Tech ‘S’ logo. Within the ‘O’, the hands of a clock rest immobile. All in all, it’s a sleek logo and an appropriate name.

“Watchover,” he murmurs, turning it over as he says it. He likes it. 

“Because with it… I’m sort of always able to watch over you. I know, it’s cheesy-” she begins to ramble but Oliver just shakes his head and smiles.

“Not at all. It’s exactly right.” He continues to examine the logo, tapping his finger on the screen to enlarge part of it. He zooms in on the ‘O’ and sure enough, it’s just as he suspected. “I like that the hands of the clock in the letter ‘O’ point to 3:20. Was that… intentional?” 

He’s relieved when she rolls her eyes and smiles at him.

“Was it intentional that I made it point to 3:20 so that the time on the clock would be the same as our room number? Yes. Yes it was intentional.” She chuckles and Oliver feels warmth seep through him, from his toes to his nose. 

“I was hoping that it was. I like it. I like it _ almost _ as much as the designer and creator,” he trails off pointedly. She beams at him as he hands back her tablet and they fall into their usual, easy banter. Oliver’s feeling better than ever these days. Now that’s actually gotten a full night’s sleep again, it’s like he’s a new man. His energy level is higher and he’s all the more ready and willing to tackle whatever Diggle or the docs can send his way.

Or so he thinks. 

The pair are still chattering pleasantly when there’s a knock at the door and Doctor Schwartz and Doctor Raymond appear in the doorway, hovering until Oliver and Felicity greet them and the pair slip inside. From the way the doctors are lingering at the foot of his bed, Oliver realizes they’re here for him.

_ Great. _

“So, what new development brings both of you two to our little slice of hospital paradise?” Oliver inquires, grinning broadly as Felicity rolls her eyes at him from her vantage across the room. She’s now able to spend longer periods of time in a sitting position, and she’s sitting upright at this precise moment, taking in the scene with keen eyes. 

“Well, we actually have some good news for you, if you can believe it.” Doctor Schwartz explains smilingly. “We’ve been reviewing Mister Diggle’s reports regarding your progress in physical therapy, as well as Doctor Ramon’s reports from your speech pathology and your cognitive therapy. That, coupled with your latest scans shows us that Oliver… you’re more than ready to be released. You’ll continue coming to the hospital for your therapy sessions with Mister Diggle and Doctor Ramon but… congratulations! You’re getting the all-clear to go home this afternoon!”

Oliver knows that he’s supposed to be happy about this latest development. But as Doctor Raymond launches in with an explanation of the timeline for his therapy, all Oliver can think is that this means he’ll have to leave Felicity. And that’s something he’s definitely not ready for.

Suddenly, his conversation with Diggle has newfound weight and merit. He’s got to talk to Felicity and tell her how he feels. _ Today_. 

Oliver forces a smile and shakes both doctors’ hands, nodding along but not really hearing the words pouring out of their mouths. When at last, they leave the room, Oliver is speechless as he tries to find the words to reach out to Felicity, keenly aware that this isn’t a development that only impacts him. She’ll be short her best friend every bit as much as he will be short his. 

He doesn’t know where to start. Oliver feels as though he’s suddenly drowning in all the things left unsaid between them. And now, with painful clarity, he sees that Diggle was right. He should have been honest about his feelings for her sooner. Trying to sort out how he feels for her with all his panic and fear about leaving her swirling in the mix is damn hard. Everything he thinks to say sounds desperate and wrong in his head. He should have done this ages ago, when he was still centered and calmer. 

“Congratulations, Oliver.” 

She is, of course, the first to speak and the first thing she does is congratulate him. As he blinks and looks at her in wide eyed horror though, she can’t seem to meet his gaze and it does not escape his attention that she’s sniffling. 

No. _ No no no. _He can’t leave her. Not now. Not ever, if he’s being honest with himself. So maybe Diggle was right, and he’s gotten a bit co-dependent. Who gives a shit? He cares about her. More than he cares to admit, mostly because he cares about her more than he’s cared for anyone else in his life outside of his family. More than his best friend Tommy, more than any girlfriend he’s ever had. Felicity has surpassed them all. 

He can’t leave her. And in that wild state of denial, he is blindly looking for any excuse to stay. 

“Diggle still hasn’t cleared me to walk around unsupervised. I _ barely _got unrestricted wheelchair privileges. I can’t be cleared to go if I’m still not clear to walk around the hospital. That’s nuts. It makes absolutely no sense. This has to be a mistake.” He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but what other choice is there? To go along with the doctors and just leave her here? Diggle is wrong. He’s got to be. Oliver isn’t hindering her healing. 

“Oliver, we always hoped this day would come. It’s a _ good thing_. You’re getting better. We should be celebrating that.” Felicity’s trying to put on a brave face but he knows better, knows _ her _ better. She’s smiling outwardly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“I don’t want to celebrate it without you. I’ll leave when you leave.” 

“Oliver, I could be here for quite a while. Even once I get released, it’ll be months before I get this thing taken off of my neck. My recovery isn’t exactly on a short time table.” 

“Come on. We’re a package deal, you should know that by now,” he tries to convince her but as he watches, she bites her lip.

“No. I can’t let you put your life on hold for me. How selfish would that be of me? I’m not going to lie to you, Oliver. I’m going to miss you. A _ lot_. I don’t want to be stuck here without you. I’m fairly certain I’m going to lose my mind alone in here. But you’re getting better. And that’s _ great_. I’m glad. You’re better enough to go and live your life. So go live it for both of us,” she encourages, though there’s a shudder to her voice that weakens her argument just a smidge, because he knows this is costing her a great deal to say.

She’s trying to do right by him, at great personal cost. He loves her for it. What she doesn’t seem to understand though is, there’s no life outside this hospital for him to lead if _ she _is still stuck here inside of it. Over the course of their time here, she’s become the unequivocal center of his day. She’s as necessary to him as breathing at this point. 

“I’ll tell them no. They’ll listen, Felicity. It’s one of the few perks of being the late billionaire donor’s son; money talks.” 

“No, Oliver.” He’s taken aback by her tone; it’s brittle and sharp and not at all her normal voice. “I won’t have you spend money on me. Not again. If you try to have your hospital stay extended just so you can stay with me, I’ll request an immediate room transfer.”

It’s as though a bomb has gone off in the room.

He’s completely shell shocked by this announcement. How can she do that? After all they’ve been through, she won’t let him milk his hospital stay? Why? Doesn’t she want him around, or has he completely misread the situation this entire time? Suddenly, Oliver’s second guessing everything.

But no. _ No. _ He knows how he feels. And he knows how _ she _feels. He hasn’t misread anything. There’s more to this, there has to be. 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because, Oliver… My recovery is going to be slow and painstaking. _ I _ don’t even want to wait for it. You’ve got the chance to get back to your life, to go breathe fresh air and look at something other than the same old hospital room day in and day out. I want that for you. I am _ insanely _ jealous of you going off and getting discharged,” she explains wryly and Oliver shakes his head. He has to make her see, he doesn’t _ want _to go back to his old life. 

There’s not much to go back to, honestly. Before the accident, Oliver had been a tumbleweed, stumbling from one fiasco to the next. College hadn’t really gone well and though he’d graduated, his grades had been nothing to write home about. He wasn’t passionate about the family business, despite his parents’ vain attempts to lure him into succeeding his father as CEO. The only real friend he’d had was Tommy and despite his status as a perpetual flirt, there hadn’t been a girlfriend to speak of. Nothing and no one waits for him out there. In here? He has Felicity. And she is more than he deserves. So leaving her? _ That’s _ the crazy idea, not staying. Staying is _ sane. _

“Felicity… There’s nothing waiting for me out there that’s better than what’s in here with me… Nothing out there is better than… well, _ you,” _ he confesses a little shyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm as he avoids her gaze. “I convinced Diggle to delay my discharge once already - I’m sure I can get him to do it again. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here.” 

He breathes out softly, feeling better for having told her the truth about how he feels (even if what he’s told her is just the tip of the iceberg). But when he lifts his gaze to meet hers, instead of a smile or a blush or any of the cute little quirks of expression he’s come to know and recognize as positive responses from her, he sees the ghost of a frown on her face and a flicker of confusion. 

“O-Oliver… what do you mean you ‘delayed your discharge once already’?” 

Suddenly, their room seems to become a vacuum. It’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the shared space and it’s silent enough, Oliver would swear you could hear a pin drop. The only sounds are the quiet clicks and beeps of their machines as he struggles to come up with an explanation. Because already, he can see the storm clouds in her eyes and he’s _ heard _the hurt and the frustration in the timbre of her voice and the subtle quaver at the end of her question.

_ Shit. _

“I… Diggle told me I was making enough progress that I could be discharged. But I didn’t want to be. I wanted to stay here in the hospital… with you. And then when you had your TIA I knew I had made the right call! I would never have forgiven myself if I wasn’t here for that, Felicity But now I think Diggle’s trying to force my hand. Yesterday he told me it was time for me to get discharged but I told him I didn’t want to leave you-”

It’s as if his mouth has disconnected from his brain. And like a third party observer, Oliver is forced to listen to himself ramble ineffectually at Felicity, whose face continues to grow more and more closed off as she listens to him. 

“Oliver… are you telling me that you could have been discharged all this time and you’ve stayed… because of _ me?” _

He can’t help the fleeting, guilty expression at her line of questioning because one look at her face has shown him all he needs to know: she’s upset. _ Extremely _ so. 

“Technically speaking, I stayed for me as much as I stayed for you. It’s not as if I did it for purely selfless reasons. In fact, I stayed for _ selfish _reasons, if you think about it.” 

_ “Oliver.” _ Her voice is brittle and her countenance dark; there’s something dangerous in her expression that he hasn’t seen before and it does little to reassure him. “If we didn’t share a room… if you and I hadn’t ever met here - would you be discharged from this hospital by now?” 

The question hangs in the air between them and several times, Oliver opens his mouth to respond to it, only to press his lips together and shake his head. There’s no right answer to this. The truth is supposed to set you free but Oliver’s terrified that the truth is about to throw him into a god forsaken dog house. And he’s not sure he can handle that. 

“In fairness, without you my healing probably would be set back. You’ve helped me with so much Felicity-”

He’s trying like hell to sidestep the question, to squirm out from the hole he’s dug himself into. But she’s not having it.

“Oliver,” her voice is practically a growl and he winces at the sound, so different from the soft way she usually says his name. “Answer the question. And answer it honestly. I think we’ve been through enough to at least give each other that much.” 

He swallows, suddenly feeling cold. At the time that he had made the request of Diggle, it hadn’t seemed like such a big deal. But now, sitting here before her, he can admit - at least to himself - that it really was. 

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes… I would already have been discharged,” he grimaces as the words fall off his lips. He glances at her sheepishly and what he sees makes him want to kick his own ass. Felicity looks as though she’s on the verge of tears. There’s sorrow and rage and turmoil all swirling in her eyes and in the lines of her features. 

“Felicity,” he begins but she doesn’t let him finish and he can’t blame her. He’s betrayed her trust, albeit unintentionally. They’re supposed to be honest with each other. And his lie by omission is still a lie. 

“I think we should stop while we’re behind, Oliver.” 

“Felicity, please I don’t want to leave like this-”

“You’re getting discharged today. And if you try to turn that down on my account? The weight of that guilt will keep me in this bed even longer than my spine will.” 

He’s not sure if she intends her words to land so hard but boy do they ever; Oliver is reeling from the very notion that he has created a burden of guilt for her when she’s already so overburdened with troubles. 

“I never meant for you to be hurt by this, Felicity. I just… I thought I was doing what was best for us - both of us.” 

“Oliver… your mother came in here, accusing me of holding back your recovery. And I _ vehemently _denied it. Because I thought we were both helping each other. But tonight? Tonight you proved her right.”

He can see the moment something in her snaps; all at once, the fire in her eyes seems to go out and in its place, there’s a haunting brokenness in her expression that eats him up inside. 

“This whole time... I thought we were _ good _ for each other but really... I’ve just been dragging you down and keeping you from getting back to your life. _ ” _

There’s a beat as she pauses and Oliver’s scrambling to come up with the right thing to say when Felicity mutters hollowly, sounding utterly crushed. 

“She was right to want to move you away from me.” 

“Felicity, let’s not blow this out of proportion,” he tries to turn the tide of the conversation and for a moment, he thinks he’s succeeded. She’s slow to respond to him this time and when she does, her voice is soft but not soft in the way he’s come to know and adore. When she speaks, the words come out with a distant air of apathy that stings - and badly at that.

“Do you really think that I care so little for you that I would be alright with any of this? Because I do care. And I’m not alright. None of this… None of it is okay.” 

He doesn’t have the words to respond to her; deep down, he knows she’s right, even though it kills him to acknowledge it. But the very idea of leaving her here is killing him. And he’s so twisted up inside he doesn’t know what to do or say. Felicity’s distress is glaringly obvious and he wants to comfort her but everything he’s said so far has only made things worse. 

“Felicity please, I _ know _that you care. And I care about you-”

“Just not enough to be honest with me.”

It’s said so faintly he almost misses it but the words hit with the force of a physical blow and Oliver is brought up short by it. Before he can get another word in edgewise though, Felicity is shifting herself carefully down into a prone position. 

“Felicity-”

“I think… we should stop now. Doctor Schwartz and Doctor Raymond said they would be back this afternoon to go over your discharge instructions… You should probably get ready. I don’t want to hold you back anymore than I already have.” 

There’s an edge to her voice, a certain, cold indifference that he’s unaccustomed to and which cuts him to the quick. And though he wants to protest, all he can do is watch in mute agony as she lays down and closes her eyes. From his vantage, he can’t see the tears that roll silently down her cheeks. But for his part, Oliver feels as though his heart has just gotten put through a blender.

He never wanted to imagine leaving her. But now that the day has come, it’s even worse than he feared it would be. Leaving her is one thing but leaving her under these circumstances, with the two of them having fought? 

It’s going to destroy him. 

\-----

Somehow, the precious few hours left to them race by without any improvement in the situation; Oliver’s discharge must be signed off on by every department and every specialist that’s had a hand in his recovery. Their room becomes a revolving door of doctors and hospital staff coming in to do a once over with Oliver. Psychiatry, Orthopaedics, Neurology, Ophthalmology, and Intensive Care Medicine all rotate through. He signs form after form and receives packets of information regarding his follow up care. 

And then there’s the staff. Every familiar face pops in to say goodbye, from Doctor Snow to Nurse Allen to Diggle. And Oliver does his best to force a smile but in truth, he feels gutted because the only person he wants to talk to is the one lying silently across the room. 

When the appointed hour finally arrives, Oliver catches the sound of familiar voices in the hall. In short order, his mother, Thea, and Tommy file in, escorted by Barry and a wheelchair. 

“Checkout time!” Barry crows with an enthusiasm that, Oliver for one, certainly does not share. 

“Finally! You ready to blow this popsicle stand, buddy?” Tommy inquires brightly, coming to stand between Oliver and Felicity, unintentionally obstructing Oliver’s view of her. 

Not to be deterred, Oliver cranes his neck to glance at Felicity’s side of the room. She’s still lying down, as she has been since their argument. And there are so many things he wants to say to her, so many words still left unspoken. Oliver’s kicking himself for neglecting to take Diggle’s advice sooner by telling Felicity what she means to him. But with things between them so fraught and with a roomful of witnesses (including his mother, who would certainly make things uncomfortable), he certainly can’t tell her _ now. _

Can he? 

“Of course he is. This day has been a _ long _time in the making, hasn’t it, Oliver?” His mother is, perhaps, attempting to be encouraging. But Oliver prickles as she answers for him.

Because no. He’s _ not _ready - not by a long shot. And his recovery has perhaps felt long to those outside of it but for him? His recovery has gone by entirely too quickly. He desperately wants to go back to that first night, when he made the life altering decision to say something to the crying girl across the way. She’s still right there. Still close enough to call out to. 

But he doesn’t. Not now. Not like this. 

“Sure,” he mumbles in response to his mother as he swings himself over into the wheelchair that Barry has brought to his bedside. He’s going to be cleared to ditch his wheels fairly soon, according to the PT paperwork he’s gone over with Diggle. But to leave the hospital, he’s supposed to be wheeled out.

As Oliver settles into his wheelchair, Tommy is quick to grab up the few personal items Oliver has to his name here in Room 320. As Oliver’s eyes sweep the room, he sees Barry writing a few final notes in Oliver’s chart, he sees his mother calling up their driver to inform him the family is on their way down. And he sees Thea, at Felicity’s bedside, speaking in a quiet undertone. 

Oliver clears his throat and in an instant, all eyes are on him except for the pair he most wants to see. 

“If it’s all the same to you guys, I’d like a minute with Felicity… I’ll meet you outside when we’re done.” 

He can tell his mother isn’t a fan of this announcement but she has the decency to press her lips together and simply depart without a word. Tommy glances uneasily from Oliver to Felicity and then back again and nods, clapping Oliver on the shoulder as he leaves the room. Barry, picking up on the tension, practically flees the room. Thea’s the last to leave and with a gentle pat to Felicity’s hand and a pointed look at Oliver, she departs, closing the door behind her as she does. 

Oliver exhales as, mercifully, silence falls within the room. Summoning his courage, he wheels himself to her bedside. She’s still lying prostrate on her bed, staring up at the ceiling (still decorated with the images he and Caitlin picked out a lifetime ago). Ordinarily, Oliver would slip his hand through hers but such simple gestures of familiarity feel questionable now in the face of their argument. He doesn’t know where they stand. And that’s miserable on its own but the added weight of their imminent separation? It’s crushing him. 

“Felicity,” he begins hoarsely, his voice cracking across the syllables of her name. Self consciously, he stops and clears his throat and tries again.

“Felicity… I don’t want to leave you… And I especially don’t want to leave you with things between us like this.” 

\-----

She’s already been on the verge of tears the entire afternoon as Oliver has readied for his discharge. But having him in front of her now, telling her he doesn’t want to leave her is almost enough to thoroughly ruin her. 

She doesn’t want him to leave either. And she _ especially _doesn’t want him to leave with things between them uncertain. Felicity isn’t sure what she imagined his discharge looking like but this? This isn’t it. 

How is she supposed to tell him that, as much as she loves his willingness to stay at her side, he’s only confirmed all her worst fears? How does she tell him she’s terrified of being a drain, a drag, an anchor that keeps him from reaching the heights she knows he’s capable of? How does she tell him that all she wants is not to hold him back and by staying for her, she’s already done precisely that? 

Unintentionally or not, he’s made her worst fears come true. He’s proved that she really is weighing him down. He’d be better off without her. If it weren’t for her, he’d already have left this hospital and would already be at home, getting back to his normal life. 

So even though it’s killing her to let him go, she knows she has to. It’s what’s best for him. And it’s high time she made certain he put himself first. 

“It’s for the best, Oliver.” Even as she says the words, she’s wilting inside. It’s for the best _ for him. _For her? It’s agony. 

He looks at her and his expression is so wounded it knocks her for a loop. She feels as though she’s just kicked a puppy. His eyes slip away from her face and she feels the loss of his gaze acutely. 

“Is it though?” 

Somehow, impossibly, he’s still fighting to stay here. With her. And it makes her heart swell and yet break all at once. What has she done to deserve such devotion? And how has it taken her this long to see how that same devotion he has for her is actually hurting him?

“Yes. It is.” 

Silence falls between them and it’s all she can do to hold it together. She cannot cry in front of him. Later, when she’s alone she can fall apart. But not now. For now, she has to be strong. For him. He has to go, even if him leaving will cripple her anew. Felicity can’t and won’t allow herself to be selfish any longer. Today, she’s putting Oliver and his wellbeing first.

\-----

Her response that yes, this _ is _what’s best for them? It breaks something in him. All this time, he’s been so sure that they’ve been building to something deeper. Something meaningful. He’d thought they meant something to each other. Hell, he’d been trying to work up the courage to tell her he loved her and then she drops a bomb like this on him? Has any of it been real? Or has this all just been a product of the stressful circumstances they’ve found themselves in? Does she even care for him at all? How can she, if she’s so easily dismissing him and turning him away? 

As quickly as that, he’s gone from simply hurt and confused to _ mad, _hurt, and confused. And before he can think better of it, his anger boils over.

“I guess I thought that after everything we’ve been through, _ we _ were what was best for each other. But apparently I was wrong to think we felt the same way about each other. _ Clearly _ you don’t feel the same way I do.”

Even as he says it, he knows he’s gone too far. It isn’t true - or at least, he doesn’t believe it’s true. Felicity _ does _ care for him. But she won’t admit it here, now, at this defining moment in their journey. And it hurts to be denied, rebuked, _ spurned _ by Felicity of all people. Felicity, who has been his one constant, his unshakeable source of support and comfort. To abruptly have her turn away from him has left him reeling. It’s bad enough he is being forced to leave her but now he feels as if _ she _ has chosen to leave _ him _ and that is almost as bad. Perhaps worse. 

He wheels himself away from her bed and towards the door. He hesitates before he opens it and despite his ire and indignation, Oliver looks back to her and he takes a breath. He can’t let words of hurt be the last things he says to her. 

“Goodbye, Felicity.”

And with that, Oliver opens the door and wheels himself outside, leaving Felicity alone in the room that had almost felt like home - until today. 


	7. Chapter 7

Leaving Felicity is a thousand times harder than he could have ever imagined it would be. The moment Oliver steps out of the hospital doors, he’s overwhelmed with how _ loud _ the world is and how _ big. _Right away, his heart is racing and he’s breathing shallowly. By the time he and his family and Tommy make it to the towncar, Oliver’s on the verge of a panic attack and he’s taken all of a few steps in the real world.

As the group settles themselves inside, Oliver tries to focus on calming himself and tries to utilize the tools he’s been given in therapy. But he’s still worked up over how he left things with Felicity and his fear is a snarling, raging beast pacing the hallways of his mind and leaving him incapable of calm. 

As the towncar rolls away from the hospital curb, Oliver is about to hit his breaking point. He hasn’t been in a car (aside from the ambulance) since the accident. And it’s all… it’s just, _ it’s too much. _Just before he falls over the edge though, a vibration on his wrist gets his attention, followed by an all too familiar, beloved voice. 

_ “Hey you. Oliver, breathe with me, okay? You’re safe, alright? Everything is okay.” _

Watchover has activated; his stillness in the car, coupled with his elevated vitals have pinged the watch to think he’s asleep and having a night terror. And somehow, impossibly, even as he gets further and further away from her, even with their fight still fresh, Felicity is saving his ass again. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to the car window, doing his best to breathe as the watch keeps talking at him. 

Slowly, he feels his body responding and eventually, the watch quiets and Oliver’s world expands. He looks around the car and realizes his mother, Thea, and Tommy are all silent and staring at him worriedly. 

“Oliver?” His mother sounds concerned as she says his name questioningly; have they been talking to him this whole time? He’s been lost, on the brink of the void and he’s only just now aware enough to process them again.

“Sorry,” he rumbles hoarsely in answer, “-I’m just… it’s hard. Being in a car. I lost it there for a second but I’m good now.” He shakes his wrist with Watchover at them and they all look at him, a little lost.

“What was that noise?

He’s about to fill them in when the car hits a pothole and the whole vehicle gives a tiny shudder. Oliver’s mouth snaps closed and he’s fighting to breathe again so he just shakes his head and presses his face to the window once more, holding the watch near his ear. He’s certain it will be talking to him again over the course of their travels and he doesn’t want to miss a single syllable of Felicity comforting him when it does. 

\-----

She’s distraught. That’s probably the best word for it, although she can think of plenty of other appropriate ones. Distressed is a good one. She’s agitated and anxious and the fact that Oliver left thinking she didn’t care? That has her gutted. How could he think, after everything, that she didn’t care? Would she have made Watchover for him if she didn’t care? Would she have wanted him to be there to see her walk if she didn’t care?! 

She’s mad and confused and she’s hurt. Which all combines for a very unpleasant sea of emotions that she’s completely and utterly drowning in. 

Felicity knows now she should have just told him how she feels. She should have just _ said it _ plainly. But it’s not as easy as all that. Or at least, it hadn’t seemed as easy as that. Felicity doesn’t exactly have the best track record. Between her dad walking out and her college boyfriend getting jailed and then dying, the men that Felicity has loved don’t exactly fare well and they definitely don’t stick around. And on second thought, now that Oliver has been discharged, that’s held true a third time. 

Oliver’s parting words already had her in tears. This realization? It sends her back over the edge and she’s crying anew. He’s been gone all of a few minutes and she’s already spiraling, which makes her feel incompetent and weak and small, not to mention she feels that much worse for not rising above her hurt to tell him how she felt when she had the chance. 

How did she manage to muck things up so much? Now she won’t get to properly thank him for all that he did for her. She won’t get to tell him how much every interaction - every spoken word, every gentle touch - meant to her. 

She won’t get to tell him how much he matters or how much she cares. And that hurts. A lot. And that’s coming from the girl who just had part of her hip cut out and screwed into her neck, so she’s kind of a leading authority on pain. 

\-----

Home feels...different. 

Even as he trails along behind his mother and sister, Oliver can feel the change his hospital stay has wrought on him. The Queen family mansion is expansive and luxurious and a million times more accommodating than the hospital but somehow, it feels so much more sterile and cold. But then again, he should know better. It wasn’t the hospital that made him feel warm and welcomed. It was the person he shared his hospital room with. 

His mother and Thea are chattering animatedly about dinner but Oliver only nods distantly; it’ll be nice to see Raisa but otherwise, he’s not particularly enthused about it - or anything, really. Thea’s phone goes off and she steps out, leaving Tommy, Oliver, and Moira alone in the entryway of the home. 

“Is there anything you need tonight, dear?” 

Oliver startles as he realizes his mother is talking to him. He looks to her in surprise and he blinks a few times, taken aback. 

Is there anything he needs? To go back in time, maybe. To say what he should have said from the get go. To undo the damage he’s done, to fess up and be honest instead of taking the coward’s way out. But these aren’t things his mother can give him.

“No, I don’t think so,” he answers her softly. Behind him, Tommy comes up alongside him and carefully slings an arm across his shoulders. 

“You get to sleep in your own bed tonight. No more crappy hospital mattress. Bet you’re excited for a good night’s sleep, eh?” Tommy nudges him playfully in the ribs but Oliver can’t even muster the energy to feign enthusiasm or agreement. 

“Actually, I’m pretty concerned about trying to sleep here. I was just starting to get some good sleep in the hospital, thanks to my roommate.” 

Tommy grins at him and his eyes sparkle mischievously. 

“Are you telling me you and the hot blonde were a thing in there? Your game knows no bounds, my friend.” 

“It wasn’t like that, Tommy.” Automatically, Oliver is a little on edge, he’s gritting his teeth and trying to remain calm and not get mad. “I get night terrors… basically every night. When I struggled with them… Felicity was always there to help.” 

An awkward silence envelops the room as Tommy and Moira look at each other a little helplessly. Oliver sighs and lifts his wrist up so they can see Watchover. He’s reluctant to share this with them because, well… they won’t understand. Not _ fully. _But he’s anxious to show just how meaningful his connection to Felicity is and there’s no better way for him to do that now than Watchover. 

“Felicity would talk to me during my night terrors until I woke up every night. And she would keep talking to me until I could go to sleep. It helped… _ a lot. _ And she knew that my night terrors wouldn’t just _ stop _the moment I got released from the hospital, so she made me this watch to help me cope once I got discharged. It monitors my vitals and when it pings that I’m in distress, it starts vibrating on my wrist to help me wake up if I’m asleep, or to help me pull myself out of a spiral. And it can play music and stuff, but it also can play sound bytes of her talking to me. That’s what you heard in the car. It helps - a lot, actually - but it’s still not the same as having her there to calm me down after…”

He trails off and gives a listless little shrug. Tommy stares at him with a look equal parts surprise and pity and it makes Oliver’s skin crawl a little. He doesn’t want pity. He wants understanding. But it’s hard to achieve that when he sucks at explaining things. How does he even begin to describe the kind of bond he’s formed with Felicity in such a short period of time? How can he describe what it was like to be without one of his senses, vulnerable and helpless and completely lost until she gave him hope and light and purpose?

His mother is the first one to speak and when she does, her response is entirely unexpected.

“Oliver… I owe you and Felicity both an apology. I know I was cruel to her. And I know that I hurt you by trying to move you away from her and by treating her unkindly. It was never my intention to hurt you. I was only trying to protect you. But I see now that… she is better for you than I realized. You two genuinely care about each other. And I… I am sorry for how I behaved.” 

Silence falls for a moment as Oliver takes in this most surprising turn of events. His mother is rarely one to admit fault; perhaps that’s where he gets it from himself. But the fact that she’s fessed up now and apologized to him about Felicity? Well… that’s big for her. It doesn’t fix things but it’s a start. 

“If you drive me to the hospital tomorrow to apologize to her yourself… We can call that a good start on putting things right.” His mother isn’t the only one who needs to apologize to Felicity. And Oliver knows that he won’t be able to live with himself until he can set things between them to rights. But personal concerns aside? He can’t bear the thought of Felicity being alone in their room, possibly dwelling on the awful way they left things. He has to go back tomorrow for her as much as for himself. They’re partners in this healing thing. Just because he’s discharged doesn’t mean he’s done healing. And he won’t leave her behind. 

\-----

They’ve been back home for all of a hot second when Thea’s phone goes off. Ordinarily she’d ignore it because _ hello. _Her big brother has just gotten out of the hospital. That’s the kind of thing that doesn’t happen every day and it totally deserves her full attention. But the name that pops up on her phone screen gives her pause and Thea can’t help but duck out of the room to answer it. Sure, it means she’s missing some of Oliver’s first moments at home. But the person on the other end of the line is Felicity. And Thea’s keenly aware - even if her idiot brother perhaps isn’t - of just how much Oliver loves Felicity. If he knew, he’d be telling her to answer the phone anyway. So she steps out to do just that.

“Hey Felicity, what’s up?” 

The two have talked a bit, here and there. Thea gave Felicity her phone number so that the two of them could communicate regarding Oliver and Thea could be there in an instant if he needed anything. This setup has worked pretty well - they’ve largely texted back and forth. Most recently, Thea was able to answer a bunch of oddly specific questions Felicity had regarding Oliver’s taste in watches, his favorite colors, and what music he sets his phone alarm to. But prior to the odd questions, their communication exchanges have largely been text updates on how Oliver is doing, heads up on when he’s having good or bad days, and so on and so forth. 

Thea’s come to really appreciate the blonde for how deeply she cares for Oliver. And though they haven’t spent a great deal of time together, Thea can tell that Felicity loves Oliver as deeply as he loves her. Thea just isn’t sure if the two of _ them _know that they’re each in love with the other. 

“Hey I umm… do you have a second?” 

“Sure, we just got home. What’s going on? Did Oliver forget something?” 

“No! Nothing like that I just… I wanted to give you a heads up that I… I was kind of an idiot and I think I really upset Oliver right before he left and I just… I wanted to make sure he’s alright... Is he alright? I’m saying alright a lot. I’m sorry.”

Thea chuckles and shakes her head, amused by the blonde’s rambling, though by Felicity standards, that was mild. 

“Well, he totally spaced out in the car on the ride over here and I think he was having an episode but he was just super quiet except for some voice thing coming from his watch - I take it that was your doing?” Thea is suddenly piecing together Felicity’s random watch questions with Oliver’s behavior in the car and come to think of it, she had known the voice was familiar but now she realizes it was Felicity’s. Of course. 

“Oh… Yeah, I built him that to help him with his night terrors or any PTSD episodes. He had one in the car? Is he okay now? Does he need anything?” 

Thea shakes her head, this time in awe. Felicity built Oliver some techy watch to help with his PTSD? Wow. That’s a new level of sweet. 

“I think he’s okay. He didn’t really say much, he just listened to the watch a lot and closed his eyes. We’re home now, he’s with Mom and Tommy,” Thea explained, listening as silence falls on the other end of the phone. After a quiet breath, Felicity speaks again.

“He’s umm… he’s got a night light that I got him. I think it might help if he does have problems with night terrors so can you just… make sure that it gets set up in his room? And let me know how he’s doing? I want to give him his space and I know I upset him but I really am worried about him and I miss him… frack what am I doing. This is probably so out of bounds. Thea, please don’t tell him I called, okay? I just… I miss him. And I-... I really care about him. So just… please take care of him for me? He’s going to need a lot of help. Well not a lot a lot but like… he needs people to be there for him. He’s been through a lot and if he tries to do this alone, it’ll be hard on him. And if he says anything about me, please don’t let him worry about me or what happened okay?” 

She’s rambling. Which Thea has been distantly aware of as being within her repertoire but she hasn’t really experienced it herself firsthand that much. It’s… a little overwhelming. But through the babbling, Thea can tell there’s deeply rooted compassion and genuine concern, both of which she appreciates. 

“Felicity, I promise I will take care of him. But what exactly happened at the hospital? I can’t take care of him properly if I don’t know what I’m dealing with.” 

More silence. Thea gets the distinct impression that Felicity is fidgeting but there’s no way to be sure. 

“We sort of fought. I was trying to encourage him to get discharged because I want him to get better but he wanted to stay for me. But if he stayed for me, your mom would be right and I’d be holding up his healing and I don’t want to be a hindrance! So I told him to go but he wanted to stay and somehow all our wires got crossed and he thought I didn’t want him to stay because I didn’t care. But I _ do _ care, Thea. You _ have _to believe me. I do.” 

Woah. Information overload. This is way more information about the emotional depth of a relationship between her brother and a woman than she’s ever had before. Because well… truthfully, Oliver’s past relationships haven’t really been known for their emotional depth. But clearly things with Felicity and Oliver are different. Honestly, _ everything _between those two is different than any of Oliver’s past relationships, so this should be no surprise. 

“Felicity, take it easy; I believe you. Anyone with eyes could see you two care about each other. I’m sure Oliver will see that too. Just give him some time. Until then, I promise, I’ll keep a watch on him and I’ll take care of him.” 

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the line and when Felicity speaks this time, her voice is heavy with barely contained emotion. 

“Thank you, Thea. I just… I had to make sure he was okay. I know being discharged is going to be hard enough on him and I made it harder without meaning to. I just want him to be happy and healthy. Whatever that looks like, that’s all I want for him.” 

“I know you do, Felicity. We’ll get him there. Don’t worry.” 

\-----

Tommy helps Oliver lug himself and his stuff up to his bedroom which is exactly how he left it yet somehow, it feels completely foreign. This room feels like it belongs to a different version of Oliver, a version of him that he simply isn’t anymore. 

“Welcome back, buddy,” Tommy murmurs as he sets down Oliver’s belongings on the foot of his bed. Oliver glances around uneasily and nods, still unsettled and on edge. His legs burn from the hike up the stairs - even with Tommy’s help, it’s taken a lot out of him just to get up here. He’d expected to feel better about being home but instead, he feels so out of sorts, he can’t relax. The room feels too big and too empty and he’s desperately aware of how cavernous it will feel when he tries to go to sleep here tonight. Not to mention, there’s no way he’s getting back down those stairs tonight without serious assistance and the very thought of how incapable he is? It has him fuming inwardly. 

“Can we talk? Are you… are you up for that, man?” Tommy queries and Oliver turns to face his friend and nods, slowly walking across the expansive room so that he’s nearer to his friend. And the bed - he’s not sure how much longer he can stand being on his feet. Diggle’s going to kill him for overdoing it on Day 1, Oliver just _ knows _he is.

“I know I didn’t visit you much…. Just the once…” Tommy trails off, shoving his hands into his pockets as he says this, obviously discomfited. “I’m sorry about that man, it's just… I didn’t know what to do or what to say. And I remember after my Mom died, you were just _ there _ for me and that helped but when I was visiting you, I got the distinct impression that you didn’t want me there. And if I couldn’t be there for you and I couldn’t say or do anything, I didn’t know where that left me. And maybe I’m off base but-”

Tommy stops when he sees Oliver laughing. And he shouldn’t be. Really, it isn’t the kindest time to laugh. But as the two make eye contact, Oliver shakes his head. 

“I _ didn’t _want you around, Tommy. At least, not around Felicity. The entire time you visited, she was asleep and I was so glad because I was terrified she’d wake up and you would start flirting with her and she’d fall for you instead of me.” 

The two stare at each other in silence for a few moments and then it’s Tommy’s turn to laugh.

“Seriously?! Oliver, I know I haven’t really interacted with her but by all accounts, I could have walked into that room naked and she wouldn’t have had eyes for anyone but you, man.” 

“I very much doubt that.” 

“Dude, she and your sister have been texting buddies this whole time. She went toe to toe with your Mom. She built you a watch to help with your PTSD. And from the sounds of it, you’re as smitten as she is. And don’t think Thea didn’t tell me about her wanting to see the family photo albums and you agreeing. You didn’t have anything to worry about then and you definitely don’t now.” 

Oliver soaks up this information; Thea and Felicity have been texting this entire time? That tracks; the two of them hit it off entirely too well and Felicity was only too keen to hear more stories and see more pictures. But in the context of Tommy’s little speech, it gives Oliver pause. Felicity has done so much; she’s been there for him in so many ways, she’s stood up for him and for them, even without knowing what exactly ‘they’ are, or if there is a ‘them’ to defend. 

She’s braver than he deserves and stronger than he can fathom and he’s been so entirely lucky to have her and instead of telling her that, he’s blown it. 

“Tommy? Thank you. You didn’t have to be at the hospital to be there for me. And you’re right - I had Felicity when I was in the hospital.”

“What do you mean you _ ‘had’ _her? I mean… It’s not like she’s dead. You two can still talk and you can visit her.” 

Oliver heaves a sigh and sits down on the bed, shaking his head worriedly. Tommy follows suit and sits down beside him, giving his friend the time and space to breathe and find the words. Which isn’t easy, really. 

“I messed up, Tommy. She wanted me to get discharged and keep healing. And I told her if she wanted me to leave, she didn’t care about me as much as I care about her. But… I _ know _that she cares about me. And I… I’m in love with her, Tommy.” 

Oliver blinks as he says the words aloud. His chest loosens as a little of the tension he’s been carrying leaves him. He loves her. He, Oliver Queen, loves Felicity Smoak. 

_ “Wow _it feels good to say that out loud,” he shakes his head and smiles a little dazedly. “Tommy, I love Felicity. And I think she might love me too. I don’t know why I said what I said. It was stupid and… then I left. Just like that. I don’t know if she’s ever going to forgive me.” 

Silence extends between the two friends for a moment and Oliver turns his eyes to Tommy, waiting expectantly for some bit of sage wisdom from his best friend.

“Tell me something Oliver, were you this dumb before the accident or did it rattle something loose in your head?” 

“Excuse me?!”

“Can you hear yourself, Oliver? You don’t know if she’ll forgive you? Come on, man. She’s done everything but hang a giant, flashing neon sign that says ‘I love Oliver Queen’ over her head. Of course she’s gonna forgive you! But in order for that to happen you’ll have to… oh, I don’t know… off the top of my head? Go back there and apologize? And actually tell her what you just told me. Because if you thought it felt good to tell _ me _ that you love her, I’m pretty sure it’ll feel a hell of a lot better to tell _ her _that.” 

Oliver stills at the very idea of going back to the hospital. He wishes he could go there now. Just go right back into that room, back to her side, and boldly tell her without any hesitation that he loves her. But before he tells her he has to apologize. And none of this accounts for the fact that he could tell her and she might say she doesn’t feel the same way. She might only care about him as a friend. He could fuck it all up by confessing his feelings. 

“Tommy what if… What if she doesn’t feel that way though?” 

Tommy claps a hand on his shoulder and looks him in the eye and for once, the jocularity is gone; there’s just Oliver and Tommy, and the honesty that years of friendship has bestowed upon them.

“Then I’ll be right here for you, brother. But for what it’s worth? ...I think she does feel the same way. She wouldn’t have built you that watch, or been there for you through every step of your recovery if she didn’t.” 

\-----

For Felicity, time seems to drag on with painful slowness. Without Oliver, there’s nothing to do and no one to do it with. She putters on her tablet for a time. She practices the exercises she’s allowed to do unassisted. But once she calls Thea and learns that Oliver’s already had one episode, she can’t focus on anything else. 

Why didn’t she tell him how she felt? Why did she let her fear of losing him overrule her heart? Maybe if she’d said it… Maybe things would have ended better. Maybe he wouldn’t have already had one episode. But that’s ridiculous; she’s blowing her own importance out of proportion. It’s rather narcissistic of her to think she’s all that important. 

Whatever the cause of his episode, she just wants to know that he’s alright. So she pulls out her phone and pulls up her text thread with Thea. 

_ I know he’s got physical therapy tomorrow with Diggle. I don’t know if he’s going to be up for talking after, but- _

No. She’s overstepping. Almost as soon as she’s started to draft the message, she deletes it. There’s only so much going around him that she can do without feeling guilty and she’s already called Thea once today. Hesitantly, Felicity pulls up Oliver’s contact page in her phone. Up until now, they haven’t needed to text because they’ve been side by side. It feels weird to be contemplating texting him instead of simply saying his name aloud. But the bed where he once was is empty and saying his name won’t garner a response this time. 

She opens up a text thread for them and her fingers hover uncertainly over the digital keyboard. Felicity has so many things she wants to say but none of them should be said over text. They should be said in person. But that ship has sailed so she’s got to take what she can get at this rate. Before she can type anything, however, a new text notification appears on her phone from Thea and Felicity scrambles to open it. 

> **Thea Queen: ** _ He talked with my mom and Tommy for a while. Tommy just left & Oliver says he’s not up for eating dinner. _ _ I did sneak into his room for the night light earlier (futuristic looking much?) but he already had it set up. And he’s still wearing his watch. _ _ I’ll text you tomorrow and let you know how it goes tonight. Get some sleep. _

Felicity stares at the screen, her heart beating a little faster. The knowledge that Oliver already had her night light set up gives her hope that maybe, just maybe, she hasn’t burned everything between them to the ground after all. Or maybe he’s using it in spite of the fact that it came from her. Whatever the case, she’s just glad he’s taking the steps to care for himself on his first night out of the hospital. 

> **Felicity Smoak: ** _ Thanks for the updates, Thea. _ _ And if anything happens tonight, you can always call. I’ll probably be up anyhow. I’m here if you - or Oliver - need anything. _

She hits ‘SEND’ and holds the phone tightly in her hand, closing her eyes as she sends up a prayer that Oliver will make it through tonight without a night terror episode. And selfishly, she prays that she won’t wake up in pain and alone, without him to chase away the specter of hurt and fear. 

As it turns out, at least half of her prayer is in vain; she awakens as usual to a throbbing in her hip because the meds still haven’t sorted themselves out and this time, she doesn’t have Oliver to help distract her from how bad it hurts. 

For a time, she tries to just muscle through. But it’s easier said than done and honestly, what’s the point? What’s she trying to prove? According to the doctors, the recovery time from her hip graft surgery is six months and she can’t do this for the entirety of that time. It was one thing to do it when Oliver was around and needing her during this time of the night. It’s another thing to suffer needlessly; she’s just weakening herself, which means she can’t be in top form for PT, which means she’ll take longer to reach her milestones, which means her entire recovery will take longer. 

“What would Oliver want you to do, Felicity?” she asks herself aloud.

It’s a question which she already knows the answer to. He’d want her to get her meds adjusted. He wouldn’t want her to suffer anymore than she would want him to. 

This is ridiculous. She sees it now; it was too hard to see when she had Oliver right beside her, needing her (at least in her mind he did). But this whole routine she’s fallen into? It’s not good. And she is self aware enough now to recognize it. With only a faint tremble in her thumb, she presses the ‘Call Nurse’ button and in short order, the Attending on the floor tonight, along with the night nurse come in and begin to work on sorting out her med schedule and dosage so that she (hopefully) won’t have to wake in pain like this anymore. By the time they get everything planned out and her new med regime tentatively decided on (pending Doctor Schwartz’s approval), the shift change is imminent and so is the sunrise. 

And just like that, however painfully, she’s made it through her first night without Oliver. Instead of feeling relieved at having made it though, all she can think of is how incredibly difficult it was - and how many more lonely nights she has ahead of her now that he’s gone. 

\-----

The first thing Oliver is aware of when he wakes is the sound of Felicity’s voice, speaking in a quiet, calming tone to him. The second thing is a hand on his upper arm, gently squeezing him as he rolls over in bed. He’s disoriented and half asleep, the last flashes of a night terror still in his head but in the back of his brain he expects to find Felicity beside him, blonde hair splayed upon the pillow, her blue eyes dark with sleep and worry. 

But Oliver doesn’t get to have sweet dreams of waking up beside the woman he loves; he only gets night terrors and the vast emptiness of a room no longer shared with Felicity. And as he awakes from this night terror, he finds it isn’t Felicity’s hand on him but Thea’s. 

His sister stands at his bedside, dressed in a simple matching pajama set, her brown hair slightly disheveled as she stares down at him with concern. Felicity’s voice, he realizes, is emanating from the watch upon his wrist and with a sigh, he silences it and pulls himself up into a sitting position. Wearily, he passes his hands over his face, rubbing away the sleep and the dull note of fear that lingers after every episode he has.

“Oliver… are you alright? You were thrashing,” Thea explains as she looks at him and he hangs his head and rubs the back of his neck with uncertainty. “I knocked but you didn’t seem to hear and I was worried about you…”

“That’s alright Speedy it’s just… Just a night terror. Sorry if I woke you,” he groans as he scoots over and she sits down beside him on the bed, looking at him intently. 

“I thought the watch was supposed to stop them?” 

“It can’t always stop them - sometimes they come on too fast - but even when it can’t prevent them, it does help me deal with them. Trust me, that was gentle compared to how they were when they started,” he explains, shaking his head. He glances up at her, noting for the first time that the night light Felicity gave him is in fact on, and casting a warm golden glow of stars and moons around the room. This settles him further and he looks back to his sister with less of the feral, unconstrained fear that runs rampant in him when he’s coming out of one of his episodes. 

“You’ve really been dealing with way more than any of us knew, haven’t you?” Thea asks softly and Oliver looks to her, trying not to appear as broken as he feels. How does he answer her honestly without looking broken though? He _ is _broken.

“It didn’t seem like so much when I was in the hospital. But now… Now it’s harder. All of it…” Oliver admits with a shrug and Thea nudges him in that familiar, sisterly way of hers that brings a smile to his face against all odds. 

“Was it really easier or did you just have a nice distraction in Felicity?” 

Oliver looks to her in surprise but then he remembers Tommy’s mention that Thea and Felicity have been texting. His sister has been privy to far more than Oliver realized but he’s not mad about it. And she’s right. 

“Yeah, okay. Focusing on Felicity made it easier to cope with and sometimes, ignore, my stuff. Without her… It’s definitely harder now. I guess Diggle was right, we have gotten to be pretty codependent on each other. But at least when we were together we were happy. Now? Now… I’m pretty sure neither of us is.” 

“You wanna talk about what happened between you two before you got discharged, or am I gonna have to wrestle it out of her instead?” 

“You mean she hasn’t told you already?” Well there’s a surprise. Somehow he would have thought Felicity would already have filled Thea in. His sister shakes her head, amused. 

“No, she hasn’t. But I know you well enough to know that _ something _happened. Care to bring me up to speed?” 

Oliver shifts and passes a hand over his face as he tries to collect himself. Where to begin with all of this?

“You don’t have to tell me, Ollie. But for the record? _ Whatever _ happened is obviously eating both of you up. And this thing between you two, whatever you want to call it? It’s bigger than one fight or one mistake. You two are bigger than that. I think you can fix things. And for what it’s worth? I certainly hope you _ will. _But to do that, someone has to make the first move. And Felicity? She might not be paralyzed but right now, you’re in a better position to do that than she is. I think she’s afraid of reaching out and being seen as a nuisance or an impediment to you. You’re out here moving on in her mind and she’s still stuck back there. If she makes the first move, she probably thinks she’ll be holding you back.” 

“That’s ridiculous, how could she hold me back? She’s the only reason I’ve progressed forward through all of this!” 

“Maybe. But can you see how she might feel that way, given everything?” Thea leads him and Oliver quiets as he considers this and then nods with a heavy sigh. His sister is right. How has it taken him so long to see things this way? 

“Being discharged doesn’t mean you two can’t still support each other and be there for each other. For whatever it’s worth? ...I really like her. She cares for you - _ really _cares for you - and I know you care for her too. So do us all a favor and talk this out, okay? I’m not saying it has to be tomorrow but I am saying that I will be driving you to your PT appointment tomorrow and I am more than fine parking myself at a Starbucks for however long it takes for you two to talk.” 

Thea takes him by surprise then, pressing a fast kiss to his cheek as she flashes him a smile and hops up from the bed and skitters out of the room. She pauses in the doorway though and she points back at the night light, still shining away at his bedside. 

“And for the record that night light? Very soft side of you.” She winks at him and disappears then, leaving him to chuckle in the darkness. When he glances at his bedside table, he sees the time and groans. He’ll need to be up for PT in a few short hours; now that he’s got a commute to get there, his mornings of sleeping in are over with. But even though he’s overdone it on his first day out of the hospital, his dread of PT is nothing compared with his dread of facing the music and facing Felicity after how he treated her.

But the idea of setting things right? That gives him renewed determination. However hard it may be to face her after what he’s said, the hope that he can make things right and that they can get back to how things used to be? That gives him all the force of will he needs to make it happen. 

\-----

His first stop once he arrives at the hospital isn’t physical therapy - he goes straight up to their room. Well. _ Felicity’s room. _It’s not theirs anymore, he realizes with a pang. And though he’s trying to be the embodiment of ‘under the radar’ he doesn’t make it ten feet into the hospital wing before he gets stopped by Barry calling out to him.

“Oliver!!!”

So much for surprising her; if she’s awake, she probably heard Barry calling him just now. Damn. 

“Oliver, hey! We didn’t expect to see you back so soon. How’s life on the outside treating you?!” The nurse is excited for his former patient, Oliver knows, but in this precise moment? Oliver wants to dropkick Barry. This is not a conversation he wants to have. If he’s going to talk about this with anyone? Well… Honestly, he’d want to talk about it with Felicity. 

“It’s ah… It’s something. Going to take some getting used to, for sure,” Oliver offers lamely but this seems to satisfy Barry, who flashes him a smile and pats him on the shoulder. 

“Baby steps. You’ll get there. Are you good wheeling yourself up to PT or do you need a hand?” 

Oliver shakes his head, dismissing Barry’s offer of assistance. He wants to be alone with Felicity, not have Barry hovering nearby waiting to escort him to PT. Besides, wheeling himself around makes him feel more independent and his independence is the only thing that’s going to get him through life outside of Room 320. If he can’t be with Felicity, he really would rather get by on his own. 

“Nah. I’ve got it. I’ll never get good with my wheels here unless I do things myself.”

“Suit yourself. I gotta run, but hopefully I’ll catch you later. It was good seeing you, man!” Barry shrugs and then waves before he zooms off in true Barry fashion, hurtling towards his next task at breakneck speed. 

With a deep breath, Oliver focuses on the open door just down the wing; Room 320’s door is ajar so she’s most likely awake and readying herself for her own PT session, if Oliver had to hazard a guess. He wheels himself to the doorway and braces himself for her rage as he raps politely on the door. 

No voice bids him to enter, however. After an awkward, prolonged period of silence, Oliver sticks his head inside the room to get a peek at what the situation is. 

Felicity is still in bed, her eyes closed and hair mussed. Though she was clearly up earlier this morning when the door was left ajar for her, she has now dozed back off again. Even as he stares at her from the doorway, Oliver is overcome with how beautiful she is. It’s as if a night apart has somehow enhanced the features he’s come to know and love. 

Maybe distance really does make the heart grow fonder? But no. It’s not that. He just loves her. Just _ thinking _the word ‘love’ makes his pulse quicken. It’s as if confessing his feelings about her to Tommy has opened the floodgates and now it thrums through him like a secondary pulse. 

He loves her. He loves Felicity Megan Smoak. And no stupid argument or night apart is going to change that. He studies her from the doorway for another minute or so, until the sound of a throat clearing behind him makes Oliver jump in his seat and spin his wheelchair around. 

“Doctor Snow! Umm. Hi.” Oliver stammers weakly, keenly aware that Felicity is sleeping just a short distance away. Not wanting to disturb her, he wheels himself away from the door and motions sheepishly for the doctor to follow him. To his amazement and good fortune, she does. 

“Long time no see!” He offers brightly, but Doctor Snow isn’t falling for it.

“What are you doing over here Oliver? Aren’t you supposed to be over on the PT wing for your appointment with Diggle?” 

“Well… Technically, yes. Soon. But I umm… I wanted to see Felicity first.” 

“Felicity had a really hard night, Oliver. I don’t know if that’s wise.” 

Oliver’s muscles turn to stone in that moment and instantly he’s on edge, his concern and anxiety spiking off the charts. 

“What happened?!” 

“Oliver, you know the rules,” Doctor Snow begins to chastise him but Oliver’s not about to be told no. 

“Doctor Snow, this is _ Felicity _we’re talking about. She and I have seen each other through some incredibly difficult stuff during our hospital stays. Anytime I’ve been in need, Felicity’s been there. She’s my girl. I may not be family but… But I’m not ‘nothing’. I love her.”

There it is again. God, he can’t stop saying it. But he’s saying it to everyone _ except _the person who needs to hear it most. He needs to talk to her, desperately. But he also wants to know what is happening with her. One rotten night, they’ve been apart, and already he’s missed so much.

“So Doctor Snow... _ please_, just tell me what happened last night?!”

His chest is heaving by the time he finishes this desperate plea and Snow is looking at him with wide yet appraising eyes. He’s not sure what she’s looking for as she stares at him but whatever it is, she must not find him lacking. 

“Physically? Felicity awoke in pain in the wee hours of the morning. She didn’t sleep well and so we had to adjust her medication schedule. It was a rough, pain-filled night and she’s been pretty out of it as she adjusts to the meds. But on an emotional level? ...I don’t think she’s handling your discharge well.” 

“...Really?” 

It’s completely selfish of him to feel the slightest bit encouraged by this news; perhaps, possibly, she _ doesn’t _ hate him entirely. Maybe - just _ maybe _ \- Felicity is… _ missing him? _There’s a slight chance all hope is not lost and that bolsters him, though the news of her pain is like a kick in the teeth. The idea of her awaking, alone and in pain, tempers his joy even in the face of his renewed hope for reconciliation. “We...sort of had an argument before I left. I was afraid she’d never want to see me again.” 

“I think she’s hurting - in more than one way. But... I think if she never saw you again, Felicity would be quite unhappy. From what I gather? She’s happier having you in her life,” Doctor Snow elaborates and Oliver can scarcely believe his ears. 

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. And he knows he’s got a long way to go before he can possibly earn her forgiveness. But the idea that maybe she actually _ could _ or _ would _forgive him? That she might want him back in her life? That gives him some hope. 

“Doctor Snow… _ Thank you.” _

“If you tell anyone what I told you, I’ll kill you.” She’s half teasing but the gravity of her words is not lost on him. She’s crossed a line telling him what she has. Which means that she must think he needed to hear it - for his sake as much as for Felicity’s, no doubt. 

Wheeling back to the doorway of Room 320, he lingers for as long as he can afford to but unfortunately, Felicity remains sleeping. He watches her though, taking comfort in each rise and fall of her chest and each soft snuffle and snort. Her face is mostly still, though she doesn’t look entirely at peace. There’s the barest quirk of a frown in her brows and her lips curve ever so faintly downward. Every so often her brows or lips will twitch as she slumbers and he takes in each subtle movement with watchful eyes. 

God, he wants to kiss that face. He wants to kiss the spot where her frown lines will someday form. He wants to kiss her lips, her cheeks, her throat. He wants to kiss every inch of her. He wants to kiss her awake and kiss her until she falls asleep. But that’s counting so many chickens before they’re hatched it’s not even funny. 

For now, he’d settle for kissing her hand in contrition, if she’d just accept his apology. 

With a heavy sigh, Oliver wheels himself away to PT, though his heart remains firmly ensconced in Room 320. It goes wherever she goes. After all, it belongs entirely to her at this point. 

\-----

She’s spent so much of the night and the morning thinking about him that she almost misses it when his name gets shouted outside of her room. He’s been an omnipresent thought in her brain since the moment he left; his name is practically playing in her head like a soundtrack on perpetual loop. But when she hears it again, Felicity realizes that this isn’t simply her thoughts repeating his name for the upmteenth time - it’s Barry calling out his name from the nurse’s station.

Which means that Oliver is here. In the hospital. On her floor. Right outside their room. _ Her room, _she amends with a sigh. He’s gone and left her alone in it. 

There’s a part of her that lifts in girlish, giddy delight at the idea that he’s come right back first thing this morning. She wonders naively if he’s come to apologize and set things right between them. But then she remembers the hurt in his eyes and the anger in his voice as he said she must not have felt the same way he did. 

What does he have to apologize for compared with her? _ She _made him feel as though his feelings were unrequited when in fact, nothing could be further from the truth. He’s probably back here demanding an apology from her. And though she’s spent half the night dwelling on it and rehearsing it, she still hasn’t stumbled upon the right words to say to him. And whatever she says? It has to be perfect. Anything less will risk their friendship and she can’t gamble on that. She needs him. She needs him more than she’d care to admit, in truth. She needs him more than she’s allowed herself to need anyone ever since the day her dad walked out. 

Since that day, she’s thrown up carefully constructed walls to keep people out and she’s staunchly refused to depend on anyone. Felicity has been a one woman show, even in her past relationships, she’s never _ needed _ the other person. 

And while she knows she can survive without Oliver, the very idea of doing so is unthinkable. If she’s going to be happy, she needs him in her life. It’s as simple as that. And she’s terrified of that - because it means that she’s allowed Oliver to tear down her walls and claim her heart. It means she’s come to depend on him. 

It means she loves him. 

And she can’t very well turn an apology into an ‘I love you’ because that… That would be the action of a crazy person. And she would really like to stay firmly out of ‘crazy’ territory. She’s frantically searching for some way of avoiding him so she can buy herself time to think of what to say when she hears the sound of someone approaching the room and she does the first thing that comes to mind.

She plays dead.

Well, not precisely _ dead, _dead. But like… playing possum. She just lets her body go loose and relaxes against the pillows, doing her level best to appear asleep to the world at large. 

She’s not ready for this conversation. She’s not ready for the possibility of messing it all up and losing him more permanently than she already has. She needs more time, time to think clearly, not riddled with pain. Time to collect herself, to make amends, to find the right words to say. Her mind is a minefield of rambling pitfalls and sandtraps. If she tries to talk with him now she’ll wind up blurting out ‘I love you’ in some wildly inappropriate way instead of saying ‘I’m sorry’ and that… that will mess _ everything _up even more than she already has.

So she commits to the ‘faking being asleep’ thing. She hears the sound of movement that falls suddenly still near the doorway. And it’s _ so _ tempting to peek. If she just opens her eyelids a _ sliver_, she could see him.

But no. That’s a dangerous game. He could see. He could realize she’s faking. Heck, he might _ already _know she’s faking. Best not push her luck any further. 

She stays this way for what feels like an interminable period of time. Eventually though, there’s the soft sound of movement and she risks it; she cracks one eye open just a sliver, enough to see Oliver, in a wheelchair, slowly wheeling himself out of the room. 

She stays faking for a few minutes more, just to be sure that he’s really gone and then she opens her eyes and sits up, though it costs her greatly to do so. Her body feels sluggish and weighty with the new pain meds she has on board and her head is far from clear. Yet another reason not to talk to him just yet - she’d probably sound like a drunken buffoon if she attempted any sort of intellectual conversation right now. 

But this is good. This is a start. He came by. He must not hate her then, right? He must still harbor even just some tiny, faint spark of affection for her...or so she hopes. If he doesn’t, she might never forgive herself for telling him to go. But he came by. _ He came by_. Which means she might get a chance to apologize for being a complete fool. She just hopes he’ll forgive her. 

\-----

By the time he finishes with PT, it’s edging on noon. He takes advantage of Diggle’s offer for him to shower and change, sensing that there’s a reason for it. And there is - by the time he’s out of the shower and dressed again, he emerges to find Felicity in the PT area, working quietly with Diggle. 

His heart leaps and flutters at the sight of her but as he looks longer, his excitement dies away considerably. 

Felicity’s face is haggard; her eyes have dark circles under them and her posture is slack, where usually she’s taut and poised. Doctor Snow wasn’t kidding - Felicity really _ did _have a rough night. And unlike him, she didn’t have a fancy piece of tech to help her get through. His hands itch with the desire to go to her side and help steady her through her exercises but he refrains. 

Baby steps. He has to go slow and not push her. He pushed her yesterday and look how that backfired on the both of them.

Instead, Oliver watches her session from afar, keeping to himself and making himself busy with the small hand weights on the opposite side of the room. He watches Felicity struggle through her assisted walking exercises and her bed to chair transfer exercises and he has to swallow back the knot in his throat as he watches her features grow darker and darker in frustration. He knows she’s upset at her own performance and that alone is a self perpetuating negative cycle; the more upset she gets, the worse she does and the worse she does, the more upset she gets. 

By the time Diggle calls the session to an end, there are veritable stormclouds radiating off of Felicity but she doesn’t take her anger out on anyone else. She thanks Diggle and with Sara’s assistance, she begins to head back towards her room. Oliver can tell from the slope of her shoulders as Sara wheels her back though that Felicity is bitterly disappointed. 

He hates this. He hates this distance, the inability to intervene and help. Sure, there’s something to be said for self sufficiency but good lord, how’s he supposed to stand idly by while the woman he loves is struggling and he - possibly - has the power to help her? 

That’s not a skill he wants to hone, in truth. He’d rather jump to her aid than sit on the sideline. He’s done enough idle waiting. He waited to tell her how he felt. That was a mistake, just as Diggle had told him it would be. Oliver’s done with waiting and he’s done with being passive. 

He’s going to talk to her. 

He’s brimming with confidence and energy and conviction all the way up to her room but when he finally arrives, the sight that meets him is not one he is accustomed to. Felicity looks utterly spent and the stormclouds hanging over her head earlier have relocated to her eyes. There’s thunder and lightning crackling in her gaze and he knows without asking that she’s hurting in a way that he really can’t help right now.

This is something she needs to process alone. Of that, he has no doubt. The problem is, she’s already seen him. Hesitating in the doorway, he finally raises one hand to greet her.

“Hey,” he murmurs and she sniffs, clearly fighting back the tears as she sits up straighter and raises her chin to look at him, trying not to let her very obvious emotions show.

“Hey.” 

“I umm… I wanted to come by and talk,” he begins and he watches the way her eyes grow round with… surprise? Horror? He’s not entirely sure. 

“Oliver, I'm really tired. I don’t think I’m up for that today,” she states delicately and he’s kicking himself for not telling her it could wait. Of course she’s tired. He can plainly see that. Already, he’s messing this up. Damn it. 

“No, right. Of course. I think maybe, if it’s alright with you… maybe I’ll come back tomorrow? I want us to talk. But I don’t want to force it; I think what we have to talk about is too important for that.” 

Her shoulders slump in relief and she bites her lower lip then looks at him.

“Tomorrow...would be alright.” 

“Okay…. Tomorrow,” he repeats, nodding from the doorway. But leaving… leaving like this doesn’t feel right either. So before he goes, he fixes her with a level stare. There’s just one thing he _ needs _ to say before he goes, or else he’ll spend another night tossing and turning. (Who’s he kidding? He’s still going to toss and turn until things have been put to rights between them, but he’ll toss and turn _ less _if he says one small but important thing now.) And maybe, just maybe, saying something will help her sleep soundly tonight. 

“Felicity?” 

“Yeah Oliver?” 

“I have a lot I want to say tomorrow but … I just need you to know that I’m sorry.”

She’s too important for him to let another moment pass by without acknowledging yesterday’s mistakes. He’ll do whatever it takes - _ whatever _it takes - to be the guy she deserves, to be a pillar of support, to be a guy that maybe, just possibly, she might come to love. And part of that is owning up to what an absolute ass he was.

Her expression is inscrutable but when she finally speaks again, her response is undeniably encouraging. 

“I’m the one who’s sorry… For ever making you feel like I didn’t care about you. I just… I didn’t want to be a speedbump or a roadblock. I never meant for you to think I didn’t want you around. Because of course I do. You’re my arms and legs.” 

There’s a moment of silence and then they both laugh. Felicity holds both hands up to cover her own face but he can still hear the low, soft sound of her laughter. 

“That sounded better in my head. But you know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he nods, already feeling so much better. 

“At least I didn’t say ‘you’re my appendages’. That would have been worse.” 

At this, Oliver just shakes his head and chuckles. They might still have an uncomfortable conversation ahead of them but this right here? Their easy, playful banter and their witty repartee? This is the heart of who they are together. They’re free to be their innermost selves. Relaxed. At ease. Comfortable. This is why he can’t do anything less than fight for her, even if it means some seriously uncomfortable self reflection and mature conversations.

She’s worth it. God, is she worth it. 

“Tomorrow,” he confirms and her lips lift into a smile that chases away some of the unhappiness in her eyes. She flashes him a thumbs up to accompany it. It’s a small gesture and her energy behind it is weak, which tells him how exhausted she truly is. But it’s something. A _ good _something. And that means a great deal. 

“Tomorrow.” She repeats in confirmation. Oliver nods and pats the armrests of his wheelchair with finality and then, with a sideways grin, he starts to wheel himself out.

“Have a good night, Felicity.” 

“You too, Oliver.” 

This time, on the drive home, Oliver’s able to close his eyes and focus on replaying the conversation with Felicity instead of fixating on the knot of fear twisting up his intestines. Thea doesn’t pressure him asking how it went, and for that he’s grateful. Instead, she asks if she can put on some music and he enthusiastically agrees. The music helps him tune out the world beyond the car as he continues replaying the look on Felicity’s face when he apologized: so hopeful and surprised. His heart rate still spikes during the drive back to the mansion but not nearly as badly as the day before. Watchover never engages fully because he never hits full blown episode levels of unease.

Things are going to be alright. There’s hope. Maybe he hasn’t ruined everything beyond all recovery after all. 

\-----

The next morning, he’s at the hospital bright and early (to Thea’s chagrin; he hears a few halfhearted, mumbled complaints about the early hour and about playing his chauffeur but his offer to pay for her coffee goes a long way towards making amends). They get to the hospital so early, in fact, that he’s forced to wait for visitation hours to officially begin. Already, he hates this new limitation on his ability to see her and talk to her. Even if everything between them was alright and not strained, he wouldn’t want to be so limited. He’s spent so much time being able to roll over and see her or speak to her practically any time of the day or night. Not being able to do so now is _ seriously _cramping his style. 

Still, it gives him time to run through the things he needs to say to her for perhaps the billionth time. He’s only been thinking about this all day yesterday and all last night. But another run through doesn’t hurt. 

Neither does grabbing them both hot cocoas (he’s being good and avoiding caffeine just as the doctors want him and Felicity both to do) and muffins from the coffee shop he and Thea pass on their drive to the hospital. But he’s still got a few minutes to spare so he paces. And paces. And paces. When the appointed hour _ finally _arrives though, he’s paced himself into exhaustion. His legs are shaky and you’d think he’d just finished PT with Diggle. 

_ Diggle is going to kill him. He already got chewed out yesterday for overdoing it. What’ll Diggle say tomorrow if he’s too worn out to stand? _

Reluctantly, Oliver manages to convince an orderly to get him a wheelchair and though it’s burning precious time, he waits for it before going to her room. He won’t really be able to accomplish much if he’s so weak on his feet that he collapses the minute he gets to her. Not to mention, if everything goes right? He’s hoping on this visit lasting quite a long time. He’ll need to sit. Might as well just get the wheelchair and be done with it.

When he arrives to Room 320, he knocks eagerly on the door, delighting in the familiar voice that bids him to enter. Already, she sounds worlds better than yesterday. And as he pushes the door open and wheels himself inside, already Oliver can tell that she _ is _doing better than yesterday. 

The dark smudges beneath her eyes are still there but greatly reduced. And the gathering stormclouds in her eyes have cleared up, leaving her gaze its normal, clear blue-gray that he’s come to love so much. Even as their eyes meet and lock onto one another, Oliver feels himself settling into what he needs to do and say to her. 

“Hey. Good morning,” he sighs at her as he wheels himself to a stop at her bedside. Felicity’s nose crinkles as her lips pull upwards into a warm smile. 

“Good morning…” she trails off meekly and he can tell that in the interim since yesterday to now, some of the awkwardness has leeched back in. Yesterday she was too exhausted to dwell on it overmuch and so was he. But now? They’ve both recovered and the result is a somewhat more self aware - and therefore, more uncomfortable - setting for their talk to take place. 

So be it. He’s not going to shy away from this talk just because it scares him. He’s ripping the bandaid off. And what’s more? He’s not going to dally about it either - he’s diving right in. Now. 

“Felicity, I behaved like an ass,” he begins without preamble and from the way her eyes flutter in a few rapid blinks, he can tell he’s taken her by surprise with this headlong charge into the elephant in the room. He just hopes she’ll be receptive to what he has to say once she gets past being surprised by his forwardness. 

“I was told multiple times that I should tell you how I felt before I had to leave. And I… I didn’t. I was so afraid of messing things up between us that I thought it would be better to go slow and not chance it. And by trying to do things the right way, I ended up doing them completely wrong. I never meant to hurt you. But I did. And for that, I will always be sorry.” 

“I know you care. And I think you care about me every bit as much as I care about you. But even if you didn’t, it doesn’t matter if one of us cares more. What matters is, we both _ do _care about each other. I was hurting and I regret saying what I did. However you feel about me, about us? That’s alright, Felicity. I’m just happy to have you in my life. Just knowing that you care is enough.” 

It’s perhaps not the best apology; he’s never had a way with words and he certainly doesn’t have much of a way with them now, with his stomach in knots and so much pressure building in his head, he could practically explode.

And then, she speaks and he feels as if all the air has left the room. This is it. Time to face the music.

“Oliver… _ I’m _sorry. I was so afraid of holding you back, I didn’t stop to consider how you would feel about all of this. I never meant to hurt you. I just want you to get better and to be happy and healthy. And in my rush to prove that I wasn’t hindering your recovery… I wound up hurting you. I never wanted to do that. And I certainly never meant to start a fight,” Felicity gushes back, looking sad and concerned and humbled. 

“More than anything, I’m sorry for our fight. And for the turmoil that it caused _ both _of us,” Oliver responds as he covers one of her hands with one of his own. 

“Can we make each other a promise right now that from now on, instead of trying to guess at what’s best for the other person, we just..._ ask _ them what they want? Can we promise to talk about how we’re feeling instead of letting things get this far? One fight like this was more than enough to last me a lifetime, I don’t know about you,” Felicity asks and Oliver’s lips part a little in surprise, his mouth dry and a faint quiver in his hands. She’s speaking of making promises so that they avoid fights like this in the future. Meaning _ they have a future. _

“Felicity, I promise you that going forward, I will do my very best to tell you exactly how and what I’m feeling. I… I don’t want there to be any more miscommunications between us. And, I know, there will be. We’re only human. But… I don’t want to take anything between us for granted. You’re too important to me.” 

Silence falls between them and Felicity’s eyes are shining as she holds his gaze in silent awe. 

“That… actually sounds like a pretty good plan.” 

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he teases and she snorts in response, rolling her eyes playfully at him. Their eyes meet and he feels that same thrill that she always stirs up in him. And judging by the way her cheeks color, he has a similar effect on her as well. 

“Felicity, there’s something else I have to tell you. But you-” Oliver explains gently and her eyes flicker nervously before she interrupts with a wave of nervous babbling.

“Frack. Of course there’s a ‘but’. I should have known there would be. Apologies are never that easy. I let myself get lulled into a false sense of security, I should have been waiting for the other shoe to drop. There’s _ always _another sh-”

“Felicity!” Oliver interrupts her frantic babbling, pushing himself up out of his wheelchair and onto his still rather unsteady feet. “There’s another shoe. But it’s not a bad one. Alright?” 

“Alright.” Her voice is small, but the barest hint of a smile blossoms in the corners of her mouth when he says the other ‘shoe’ isn’t a bad one. After a moment for them to both regain their bearings, Oliver tries again, clearing his throat and inhaling deeply.

Here goes… _ everything_. 

“I was going to say that there’s something I have to tell you. But you can’t interrupt me, okay?” He raises his brows at her and she gives him a sheepish grin and bites at her lower lip as she fiddles with her hands in her lap.

“You do know that’s basically like asking me to not breathe, right? I ramble. I babble. I talk. It’s sort of my shtick. And as I recall, you said you _ liked _that about me. Remember?” 

He can’t help but smile as he fixes her with a pointed stare and she dissolves into a grin. 

“I’ll try really hard not to. Promise.” 

“You’ll _ try _not to?” 

“I can’t promise more than that. Best I can do. I can’t in good conscience make a promise if I don’t know whether or not I can keep it. What kind of monster do you take me for?” 

He shakes his head, still chuckling, but decides to go for it. She’s right. She’s a babbler and he _ does _love that. 

“Felicity… You’re my best friend. You know that, right? Tommy will be absolutely _ green _with envy when he finds out he's been dethroned, but it’s true.” 

He tries to infuse a little humor into his confession and he’s rewarded with the musical notes of her laughter ringing through the relative quiet. She looks at him, her eyes positively sparkling with good humor. And then she speaks up in a stage whisper.

“Am I allowed to answer that, or does that count as interrupting?” 

He rolls his eyes and looks up at the ceiling, muttering playfully. 

“And they say I’m the one with the brain injury,” he jokes, only to feel her reach out a hand and poke one finger into his chest playfully.

“HEY!” 

“I mean yes, you’re allowed to answer!” Oliver responds with a wink and she grins at him before she sobers a little and considers the question. 

“I do know that, Oliver. You know you’re mine too, right? Iris and Alena, they’re great. But… they’re… Well, they’re not _ you.” _

Wow. If his heart wasn’t already all a flutter, this declaration on her part would have sent his heart racing. Now it’s time for him to make his _ real _confession. 

“Felicity, the only reason that I am better enough to have been sent home is because of_ you_. You have been my rock through every step of this journey. I don’t know where I would be without you - but I do know that wherever that place is, it’s nowhere I want to see. I have _ literally _ been in the dark. And you… You have been my light in that darkness. You saved me from myself. And I can’t thank you enough for that,” he swallows, trying to brace himself for what he’s about to say. “And Felicity… I just need you to know that I-... I love you. And… I’m _ in _love with you.” 

The room is silent, save for the steady hum and occasional beeps from her many monitors and machines. Her eyes are on his, bright and sparkling and opened wide in amazement. Oliver lives several lifetimes in the seconds following his confession. He watches as the tears well within her eyes and color blooms high in her cheeks. As the tears spill over her eyes and trace down her cheekbones, it’s all he can do not to brush them delicately away but he knows how off limits even that simple touch still is. 

Fortunately, Felicity snakes out a hand and twines her fingers through his, effectively meeting his desire for physical contact while also removing the temptation of touching her cheek. 

“Oliver you think that I saved you but the truth is...You saved my life the very first time you spoke to me. And you’ve continued to save me every day since then. Just _ knowing _ you has changed my life - for the better. You give my days here meaning… you give my days here _ purpose_. And you bring me more joy than anyone else in this whole place,” her voice quavers as she brings her other hand to cover his with a shaky exhale. “...I love you. And I’m _ in _love with you too.” 

Oliver exhales slowly, in joyous disbelief. He fears his heart may beat right out of his chest as those life altering words fall from her lips. Right away, he’s trying to memorize this moment, because he’s going to want to relive this at least half a hundred times a day for the rest of his life.

_ She loves him too. _ And not just as a friend. She’s _ in love _with him. She cares as much - and in the same way - as him.

“Do you think the doctors will let you out of that cast long enough for me to give you a kiss?” It’s meant as a gentle tease because _ damn_, he wants to kiss her so badly that it’s a physical ache to resist the urge. 

“If I could get them to let me out of this thing for a kiss, I would have gotten them to do it ages ago,” she answers him truthfully. “Sadly, I think they’re going to keep us waiting for a while.” As if he could forget. As if he isn’t counting down the days. As if he could go a day without thinking about how long he still has to wait before he can be given her long ago promised kiss. 

He realizes she’s still mulling something over; she’s grown suddenly a little tense, and there’s worry in the little lines of her brows. 

“Do you… Do you think you can wait? I mean… I’m going to be in casts and braces for months, maybe even a year,” she reminds him nervously, the words pouring out of her quickly and with great anxiety. Can he wait? _ Can he wait? _

He had to wait weeks just to look at her face. He had to wait to hold her hand. Everything about their story has been in slow stages and fits and starts. What’s a year of waiting? Sure, it will be a short eternity, but Felicity? 

She’s worth waiting for. 

“Felicity, I will wait as long as it takes. I’m going to be here to hold your hand when the neck cast comes off. I’ll wait for you. And if I can’t kiss your lips?” 

Here, he he lifts her hands to his face so that he can press his lips to the back of either hand. When he finishes he’s silent for a spell and he simply runs his thumb across the knuckles of her right hand as he continues to hold it, reluctant to let her go.

“I’ll kiss the rest of you instead,” he teases gently, and her eyes sparkle as she stares up at him with a smile that utterly melts him. 

“You’re ridiculous and I love you,” she laughs at him and his heart swells at the simple, easy way those three words fall off her tongue. He could really get used to hearing that. He hums contentedly in response, smiling at her.

“I really like the sound of that.” 

Her nose and eyes crinkle with delight and his favorite smile steals across her lips, shy but proud all at once. 

“Oh yeah?” she inquires playfully and he nods, entirely serious. 

“Definitely.” 

“Well in that case… I love you, Oliver Queen.” 

That’s all it takes; he feels fireworks and his whole body feels like there’s electricity coursing through his veins. Felicity Smoak is in love with him. 

“That’s good. Because I’m head over heels in love with you, Felicity Smoak.”


	8. Chapter 8

The next week unfolds with comfortable predictability; each morning when visiting hours begin, Oliver is ready and waiting to visit with Felicity. He leaves only when he has to go to PT or the like, and then he returns and keeps her company until visiting hours draw to an end. 

It’s perhaps not a thrilling pattern to some, but to Oliver, it’s the single greatest way to spend his days. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here, at the side of the woman that he loves. 

In fact, he’s sitting at her bedside when Doctors Schwartz and Raymond come in with news, looking for all the world like the cats that got the canary. Oliver sits up at the sight of the doctors looking so pleased with themselves. He’s not sure what this means, but he’s hoping it’s something good. His hand squeezes hers and right away, Felicity’s eyes fly open, taking in the scene before her with surprise.

“Hi Doctor Schwartz, Doctor Raymond,” she greets them, glancing to each in turn with a warm smile. “What’s up?” 

“Well, Felicity. We have some good news. Based on your most recent radiographs, we are going to recommend that you be released from the hospital. You still will have a great number of limitations - including no driving or lifting anything over ten pounds - but your spine is healing well and your TIA has shown no signs of recurring, so you’re a good candidate to continue recovering away from the ICU. You’ll still need to have frequent follow ups and monthly radiographs so we can track the fusion of your spine but… Tomorrow, we’re discharging you to the long term recovery center across the street.” 

Oliver looks at Felicity, awash with delight. But Felicity is expressionless as she takes in this news, processing what this means. 

“So I’m leaving the hospital… but I’m not going home?” 

_ Oh. _Oliver knows that Felicity wants to go home. While leaving the hospital is certainly a step in the right direction, he knows that in mind, Felicity has envisioned leaving Room 320 to mean that she’ll get to go home. And this… This is not that. 

“A long term recovery center will help you get home eventually and be safe once you get there, Felicity,” Doctor Schwartz explains gently as she comes closer, sensing her patient’s unease and disquiet. 

“Mhmm,” Felicity murmurs, doing her best to sound bright and chipper but Oliver can plainly tell that she’s holding back tears. _ She wants to go home so badly. _And he can’t blame her. 

“Hey. Felicity? You’re going to get to go home, you hear me? It’s going to take a little while longer but this? This gets you another step closer to that. It’s a good thing. I promise,” Doctor Schwartz assures her and Felicity opens her eyes to meet the doctor’s gaze. 

“I just… I want to be normal again,” Felicity sighs and Oliver squeezes her hand a little tighter, wanting to communicate that he’s here. 

“I know you do. And I know that this isn’t exactly the news you were hoping for. But a recovery center will help you get back to normal - or as close to it as you can be - so don’t take this as a loss, Felicity. This is a win - and a big one. A recovery center will mean more mobility, more independence, and more regaining what you’ve lost. Getting you home is important. But making sure you’re safe once you get there is too. The recovery center can help you navigate your injury safely so that you heal without accidentally reinjuring yourself.” 

Doctor Raymond comes forward as Doctor Schwartz finishes her speech. He glances at the other doctor to be sure she’s done and then, with a smile, he launches into his own two cents. 

“Felicity, for what it’s worth, we’re sending you to the recovery center with as few restrictions as we reasonably can at this point. They’re going to have you doing all kinds of exercises to help you prepare for life away from medical centers. We just need you to bear with us for a while longer and then you’ll get discharged to finish out your recovery from the comfort of your own home.” 

Felicity makes a noise in the back of her throat to signal that she’s heard him but otherwise, she’s unmoved by his words. The doctors, sensing that she needs some time to process, quietly gather themselves and leave, so that it’s once more just Oliver and Felicity. Staring at her, Oliver tries to suss out the best approach to take here. He knows she’s distressed and wants to go home, so this news about the recovery center is not particularly good news to her. He’s sensitive to that but at the same time, he’s delighted at what he can plainly see is a step forward for her. But in her opinion, this isn’t progress. And that’s what he bears in mind as he opens his mouth to speak. 

“At the very least, a change of scenery might be nice. And I hear recovery centers have way better digs than semi-private hospital rooms.” His voice has a gentle, teasing note to it and despite the misgivings he knows she has, he delights in the way her lips knit into the tiniest possible smile in response. 

“Is that so?” 

“Oh yeah. Way better amenities.” He’s teasing in full now and her smile grows, which only spurs him on. “If you’re lucky, the continental breakfast might even have blueberry muffins.” 

“Talk about living the life of luxury,” she chuckles back and just like that, some of the tension evaporates, though he knows she’s still not quite ‘there’ with this news yet, she’s at least not as upset about it as she was.

\-----

The move to the recovery center feels… anticlimactic. 

Her mother is, of course, atwitter with excitement and running around trying to make herself useful. And even Oliver seems energized, though he tries to downplay his excitement as he sits thoughtfully at her bedside as her discharge is processed, using their game to write messages to her on her hand. But Felicity expected to feel more excitement and more of a sense of accomplishment about being released. And really, if she was going _ home, _she’s certain she would feel all those things.

But she isn’t going home. She’s just going to a watered down version of the hospital. While everyone else is acting as if this is some major milestone in her recovery, it feels more like a blip on the radar. She still has pretty significant limitations on how and when and where she can move. She still isn’t sleeping in her own bed. She still can’t kiss the man she loves. 

Hard to get very worked up when there’s a limitation that glaring still standing between her and planting a real smooch on Oliver’s lips. 

They are shown to the recovery center by Barry, who parts ways with the group when Felicity’s new caregiver, a guy named Rory, takes over. They’re shown around everything from the physical therapy room, to the rec room, before they finally make their way to Felicity’s new private room. Felicity stares at the sterile space in distaste, already missing the familiar, decorated walls of Room 320. Room 320 was warm and inviting and familiar. Room 320 is where she and Oliver first came together. This ‘Room 406’? Not nearly as good, in her humble opinion. 

“Alright. So this is your room, as you can see you’ve got a private bathroom, a closet, a TV - all the usual stuff! Myself and a guy named Curtis will be the ones taking care of you during the day, Felicity. We make up the core of your rehabilitation team. You’ll get to meet your doctor tomorrow, I think Doctor Chance is the one on your case. He’s a pretty cool guy, really flexible on treatment strategies, you’ll like him. So, Curtis and I will be the ones assisting you with your therapeutic recreation sessions and your physical therapy sessions. Your night shift team consists of Roy and Rene. They’re good guys, but they’re both a little gruff so heads up for that. Now, night shift is a little less involved than what you were used to at the hospital, purely because you’ll be resting at night. So, unless there’s a problem at night, you probably won’t see much of Roy or Rene, although they’ll stop in on their respective nights with you to introduce themselves and check in. Now, I know I’ve thrown a lot at you, but are you seeing any problems so far? Or do you have any questions?” 

At this, Felicity shakes her head; sure, she’s feeling more than a little overwhelmed, but what Rory’s said has made sense and she’s not really keen on prolonging the show and tell tour. Picking up on her fatigue and her readiness to be left alone, Rory smiles and excuses himself. 

“Alright then. For now, just rest and relax and know if you need anything, I’ll be out there, okay”

Felicity nods and offers a wan smile as Rory departs. But the smile is forced and behind it, there’s a jumble of messy emotions she doesn’t even begin to know how to unpack. But even as she feels her discontent growing, Oliver’s hand strokes the back of her palm and lifts her from her foul mood before it can intensify. Instead, he flashes her a smile and murmurs just the words she needed to hear right now. 

“I’m here. Just tell me what I can do.” 

She sighs and a smile flickers across her lips. He’s so effortlessly sweet and he’s so dialed into her moods it would be scary if he didn’t use his powers for good.

“I don’t like it. I don’t feel comfortable here. I-I feel...lost.” She pauses and her eyes hold his plaintively. “I miss _ our _ room.” 

“Hey,” his voice is a soft rumble, instantly reassuring and surprisingly intimate, “it’s gonna be okay. We’ll make this place feel comfortable. Can’t you just see it? I’m picturing a very fashionable ‘Oliver original’ collage over there. And I think my chair will look great right about here, don’t you?” 

There’s playfulness in his tone but beneath it there’s something deeper too; the stoic, serious reassurance that, even in these new surroundings, he’ll be at her side. And it’s that which quiets her fears more than anything else. 

“Right there, huh?” 

“Oh yeah. Every day. For as long as it takes. Still feel lost?” he queries, his eyes almost as bright as his smile as he stares down at her tenderly. And despite her misgivings, Felicity feels her lips part into a reluctant smile. 

“How could I? If you’re here, I’m right where I need to be.”

At that moment, Donna Smoak comes sweeping back into the room, heavily laden with bags of goodness only knows what - Felicity didn’t exactly have a lot of personal items back in Room 320 and certainly not enough to fill as many bags as her mother’s got with her. 

“Oh, Oliver you’re still here, good. Be a doll and hang this up for me, will you?” Donna tuts and Felicity can only sit in her bed and watch as her mother begins fishing a massive piece of fabric out of one bag. When she’s got it out, she quickly presses it into Oliver’s waiting hands.

“Mom… what _ is _that?” Felicity queries in surprise and not a small amount of confusion.

“Well it’s a quilt, sweetie. I quilted it. See, look, it’s made out of your old shirts, and pillowcases and things I got from your apartment. Isn’t that nice? It’s a little piece of home!” Donna offers brightly and Felicity can only stare in shock as she recognizes the pillow cover off her bedroom pillows and more than a few favorite old tee shirts and pajama tops - all of which she had intended to resume using upon her return home but which are now, for good or bad, stitched into her mother’s ‘get well’ quilt.

“Oh wow,” Felicity exhales quietly as Oliver shoots her a grin and obediently hangs the quilt up on one wall. Meanwhile, Donna Smoak busies herself placing pillows and framed pictures around the room. To Felicity’s surprise, there’s a framed picture of Oliver that definitely didn’t come from Felicity’s place. Picking up on her daughter’s shock, Donna beams.

“Oliver’s sister and I got to talking when she was waiting to pick him up from PT the other day and she was sweet enough to send me a picture that I could get framed for you. Isn’t that nice? Now you can look at that jawline day and night!” Donna chirps, grabbing Oliver by the chin and making a murmured noise of appreciation before she lets him go and dives back into her bag, making Felicity groan.

“Mom!” 

“Oh honey, I know, I’m sorry, but Oliver’s good looks are hardly a secret, alright?” 

“I’m going to die in here,” Felicity whispers in mock horror to Oliver, who chortles back and shakes his head. “I’m being smothered to death!”

“Not on my watch, Smoak. We’ve made it entirely too far for me to let you go now.” 

“Tell that to my mother before she _ mothers _ me to death!” 

Fortunately, Donna Smoak doesn’t stay _ too _long - while she may be a lot to handle at times, Oliver does appreciate that she understands and appreciates the need for Oliver and Felicity to get time to themselves now and again. After she unpacks even more odds and ends for Felicity (including a teddy bear with a ‘get well’ sign from Thea, Felicity’s tablet and laptop, and a couple ferns, recently purchased by Oliver to ‘spruce up’ Felicity’s room), Donna excuses herself to go pick up a pizza for all of them to enjoy for dinner. 

Felicity’s caregiver, Rory, pops in not long after Donna leaves and informs Oliver and Felicity that his shift is ending soon and that the night nurse will be coming in to introduce himself. 

“Roy is working tonight. He’s a little rough around the edges but he’s a nice enough guy. He’ll take good care of you. And if he doesn’t, you just tell me and I’ll make sure he knows what’s what,” Rory explains with a good natured wink before he ducks out of the room. 

“What is this, fantasy recovery center? You’re surrounded by men!” Oliver teases and Felicity arches an eyebrow at him playfully.

“Are you jealous?” 

“Only that this ‘Roy’ guy gets to be here with you at night when I’m not allowed to be here,” Oliver confesses, staring at their twined fingers tenderly before lifting his eyes to hers. “I miss spending my nights with you.”

Color floods her cheeks and he delights in the fact that he can bring a blush to her cheeks as easily as telling that simple truth. He really does miss being with her at night; night is when they’ve both struggled and night is when he sometimes misses her the most acutely. He misses their quiet shared conversations, he misses the sleepy sound of her voice in the wee hours of the morning, he misses the glow of her skin in the moonlight. He misses all of it. 

“I miss spending my nights with you too,” she confesses, her cheeks still red hot but her eyes warm as she meets his gaze. “I mean, I don’t miss you having night terrors, or me being in pain. But our talks? Those I miss.” 

And that’s when he gets a mischievous but well intentioned, at least partly selfless (and partly _ selfish _) idea. 

“So what if I sneak back in here? Tonight? Then you won’t have to spend your first night in here alone. And neither of us will have to miss the other.” 

Her jaw drops open slowly and she stares at him in surprise. But the longer she stares, the more he can tell that she’s coming around to the idea. 

“What if we get caught?” 

“What are they going to do, throw me out? My family funded a wing of the hospital, I don’t think the administration would want to risk biting the hand that feeds them,” he points out and her eyes widen as she considers his idea still more seriously. 

“What if they ban you from visiting me?” 

“Them and what army?” 

At this she gives a little laugh of amusement but he can tell that his words have touched her; there really isn’t a force on this Earth powerful enough to stop him from being at her side if she needs him. And tonight? Tonight she needs him. She doesn’t want to be alone in a foreign environment and truthfully, he doesn’t want to leave her here alone either. For both their sakes. 

“Okay.” She’s biting her lip even as she says it and her nose crinkles with delight and nervousness at the rogue nature of it all. But she’s signed off on it and that’s all the more ammunition he requires. 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah. Let’s do it. Let’s have a sleepover again.” 

By the time Donna comes back with the pizza, Oliver and Felicity have fallen into a happy, conspiratorial quiet. The TV is on in the background and they’re both half paying attention. Over the course of the meal, Oliver can tell Felicity is distracted thinking about their forthcoming rule breaking and he himself is trying to devise a plan that gets him back in the door after visiting hours have ended. He fires off a text to Thea, telling her he’s going to spend the night at a friend’s so she doesn’t need to worry about picking him up from the hospital.

It’s not exactly a lie.

They finish the pizza just as visiting hours come to an end. Oliver makes a show of saying goodbye and walking out with Donna. When he makes it as far as the lobby, he feigns having forgotten his phone and tells Donna not to wait up as he doubles back to Felicity’s room. Once inside, he grins at Felicity and then stows himself inside her closet, which thankfully, Donna has not yet managed to fill _ completely_, though she did a good job today of bringing over plenty of Felicity’s clothes for her to choose from. They’re hung neatly on hangers inside the closet but there’s still room enough for him to squeeze in and wait until the night guy - this ‘Roy’ fellow - makes his rounds. 

In the meantime, the best use of his time is of course, to text Felicity. 

> **Oliver Queen: **   
_ How’s the outside world? I’ve forgotten what it’s like out there. _
> 
> **Felicity Smoak:**   
_ It’s got better airflow than where you’re at. This is your grand plan? To hide in my closet? _
> 
> **Oliver Queen:**   
_ Hey, I suffered a head injury. We should be happy my ‘grand plan’ is anything remotely feasible. And trust me - it’ll work! _
> 
> **Felicity Smoak: **  
... _ I can’t believe you played the ‘head injury’ card. That’s low. _
> 
> **Oliver Queen: **   
_ I never claimed to play fair. _
> 
> **Felicity Smoak: **   
_ Remind me to never play board games with you. _
> 
> **Oliver Queen:**   
_ Bold of you to assume I play board games at all. _
> 
> **Felicity Smoak: **   
_ ...You… You DON’T play board games!? _
> 
> **Oliver Queen: **   
_ ...No? _
> 
> **Felicity Smoak: ** **  
** _ How can you NOT play board games? That’s insane! Board games are awesome. Come on. Risk? Catan? MONOPOLY? _
> 
> **Oliver Queen: **   
_ ...I’m going to have to play board games with you now, aren’t I? _
> 
> **Felicity Smoak: **   
_ Yes. You should make your peace with that now. _
> 
> **Oliver Queen: **   
_ You’re really asking a lot of me, you know that? ...It’s a good thing I love you so much. _
> 
> **Felicity Smoak: **   
_ Good thing. ;) Now turn your notifications to silent, I’m pretty sure I hear someone coming. _

Oliver quickly does as she instructs and then he presses an ear to the closet door. He can’t hear anything, but after a moment or two there comes a knock on the room door and Felicity’s voice rises above the quiet strains of the TV still playing in the background.

“Come in!” 

“Miss Smoak?” A muffled male voice sounds and Oliver resists the temptation of cracking the door open to peek at this ‘Roy’. He sounds young, and more than a little bored. 

“That’s me! You can call me Felicity. You must be Roy! Rory told me to expect you.” 

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” Roy mutters back gruffly, and already Oliver can see why Rory described him as ‘rough around the edges’. “I’m one of two night guys on your team - Rene covers my weekends, so you’ll meet him in a few nights. So, how this works is, us night guys? We don’t come in unless there’s a problem. So if your sensors start reading funny or something, you’ll see me but otherwise? I pretty much leave you alone. Got it?” 

“Yeah… Yeah, I got it. Thanks Roy.” 

“Yep. Don’t mention it. Have a good night.” 

The sound of retreating footsteps precedes the sound of the door swinging shut and Oliver holds his breath as he waits for Felicity to give him the all clear. 

“Alright Master Camouflage. You can come out now, he’s gone.” 

“He seems like a peach,” Oliver mutters as he pushes the door open, blinking uncertainly as he regains his bearings. 

“Go easy on him. He doesn’t seem so bad,” Felicity remarks with a chuckle as she stares at him over her dark framed glasses. In return, Oliver offers her a mock scowl before he staggers unevenly out of the closet, his right leg half asleep and his back sore from being scrunched inside. But his discomfort is worth it; the second he looks back at Felicity her face lights up and she pats the space beside her in bed.

“Get over here, Mister ‘head injury’. There’s plenty of room up here; come rest your noggin.” 

Oliver’s heart quickens in his chest and he swallows thickly but acquiesces, making his way across the room to her bedside and gently easing himself onto the bed beside her. He toes off his shoes and at her prompting, slips his feet underneath the covers to nestle against hers. Somehow, despite the hours of sitting at her bedside and holding her at PT as she walked, she’s never seemed as small as she does now, in this moment. Lying beside her, he’s almost afraid he’ll break her; she’s so petite and even with her brace protecting her neck, he’s terrified of jostling her wrong and reinjuring her. 

“What if I have a night terror? I don’t want to hurt you, Felicity.” 

At this, she shifts her whole body so she can stare him in the face, her eyes dark and her expression serious. 

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t wake you up before your night terrors could get that bad,” she responds, a faint note of teasing in her choice of words. But the set of her lips and the crease in her brow tells him she’s dead serious. She trusts him not to hurt her, even in his sleep, even in his worst, horror filled dream. 

That faith is no small thing and it is not lost on him that she’s essentially placed her life in his hands by entrusting him here like this. And perhaps it’s wreckless. Perhaps it is dumb. But oh, how he treasures her trust. 

“All the same. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re out of harm’s way. When I start to get sleepy, I’ll move back to my chair.” 

She opens her mouth and begins to protest but he quickly holds a hand aloft, silencing her before she can even voice her argument. 

“Please, Felicity. Let me do it this way. If not for your sake, then for the sake of my emotional well-being. Alright?” 

Now he’s done it; if he’s asking her to do it for _ his _sake, she’s much more apt to acquiesce. He watches her close her eyes and take a breath but when her eyes open again, he knows she’s made up her mind.

“Okay. But for the record? I am opposed to you sleeping folded up like a human accordion in one of those ridiculously uncomfortable chairs.” 

“Your objections are duly noted. But I insist.” 

He’s making progress with his PTSD. And his night terrors have become less intense and less frequent. But he’s still nowhere near confident enough in his recovery to share a bed this small with her while he sleeps. They’re in unfamiliar surroundings - any number of things could trigger him. It’s too great a risk and he won’t endanger Felicity, not even for the great joy and thrill of sharing her bed tonight. 

Her well-being comes before everything else, in his book. 

But all fears of night terrors and such aside, being next to her in bed like this? It’s sort of incredible. Their relationship has been all sorts of out of order from the get go and it seems odd to be sharing her bed (even in this very innocent way) before he’s ever even gotten to kiss her properly. But hell if he doesn’t love being able to lie beside her, his feet warming hers, delighting in how she loops her arm through his. He very carefully presses his face against the crown of her head and he can’t help but breathe in the smell of her shampoo before he presses a tender kiss to her forehead. 

“So what do you think, Smoak? You warming up to this place yet?” 

“I’ve decided that the night life here is a distinct improvement over the much more disruptive, much more involved hospital room life, which would have made this kind of rule breaking all but impossible,” she grins up at him, her eyes shining with the reflection of the TV across the room. 

“Yeah. I’m kinda enjoying that aspect of it too,” he agrees, holding her close and enjoying the warmth that her mere presence affords him. This. This is where he belongs. 

\-----

Unexpectedly, the long term recovery center proves somehow more liberating than either of them expected. Felicity is enjoying her expanded freedoms; her physical therapy and recreational therapy sessions both are prepping her for how she’ll need to move her body once she’s released from the hospital. She’s learning how to bend and pick up weighted items in ways that will be safe for her spine. She learns about the new vitamin and supplement regime she’ll be put on to promote bone strength. Visiting hours at the center are broader than in the hospital, and the more ‘hands off’ approach of the center allows Oliver to spend the night unbeknownst to the staff - which he does. Frequently. He’s usually with Felicity at least once a week but ideally two nights. 

It gets easier for Oliver to be with her overnight once he’s given the all clear to start driving again. No longer dependent on his sister, he doesn’t have to report on his whereabouts nearly as much, though Felicity suspects Thea knows perfectly well where Oliver is when he claims to be ‘spending the night at a friend’s’. 

After all, Thea is a frequent visitor herself. She’s simply smart enough to time her visits so that they coincide with her brother’s PT sessions. This means that for a few hours each week, Felicity and Thea get time to themselves to discuss Oliver and his recovery, which Felicity is delighted to know is going surprisingly well. He’s keeping up with his PT with Diggle and he’s diligent about going to his therapy sessions to work through his PTSD too. According to Thea, each night before bed he turns on his night light and he’s virtually never without the Watchover watch she gave him. He’s having fewer and fewer night terrors; when he gets down to one a week, Felicity can’t help but feel proud of him.

He’s really doing it. He’s healing.

Through her visits to the center, Thea also gets to meet the rehabilitation team working with Felicity. And to Felicity’s surprise (and delight) Thea hits it off with Roy, of all people. This is great - at first. 

But eventually, Roy starts wanting to ‘pop in and say hello’ unexpectedly - which means Oliver is sent scrambling for cover anytime he spends the night and Roy decides to swing by and say hi. It also means that Oliver must get more creative in his tactics for spending the night, as Roy will sometimes come in and chat for a while at the close of visiting hours. This makes it impossible for Oliver to keep sneaking into Felicity’s closet to hide. Instead, he has to come up with alternative methods for sneaking back in when he plans to stay overnight. 

He ducks into the recreation room to hide one night, and ends up accidentally doing a pilates workout with some of the center’s other patients to try and blend in. It’s only after the workout ends that he’s able to sneak back into Felicity’s room, sweaty but otherwise no worse for wear. Another night, he fakes being a pizza delivery guy to gain access; his disguise comes complete with a bad wig, sunglasses, and a baseball cap. The first time he shows up looking like that in her room, Felicity laughs so hard at the sight of him that she nearly brings the night staff in because of the noise. 

Each time he spends the night, Oliver has to get more and more creative. Fortunately, he rises to the challenge instead of being daunted by it, much to Felicity’s relief. She doesn’t want to place undue stress on him, but their shared nights? She desperately looks forward to them. There’s something deeply satisfying about him holding her in his arms, and about their quiet, whispered conversations with one another. Even lying in bed, just watching TV with him is a million times better than watching TV alone. 

Yeah. She definitely loves him. 

\-----

A month into her stay in the recovery center, Oliver doesn’t show up at the start of visiting hours. Which isn’t strictly unheard of but is definitely unusual. He doesn’t have PT to delay him, or a therapy session, so Felicity isn’t quite sure where he’s at. And she doesn’t want to bother him if he’s busy. She feels bad enough that he spends one or two nights a week sleeping in a plastic chair at her bedside, on top of the hours he spends each day at her side in the very same chair, ensuring that Felicity never wants for company. She monopolizes enough of his time without pestering him while he’s gone too. 

It’s just a little difficult given that boredom is always looming wherever she looks. Hospital beds make poor vehicles for entertainment, tragically. And she’s been (mostly) confined to a bed for so long now, she’s almost forgotten what life on the outside is like. 

Thankfully, she’s got her ferns from Oliver to liven the place up. And her tablet of course, which she uses to surf the web, though truthfully she’d rather be couch surfing in the comfort of her own home. She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that time will come. Eventually. 

“Baby steps, Felicity,” she mutters aloud, pinching the bridge of her nose as she closes her eyes and tries to refocus. With Oliver gone, maybe she can do some work on the Watchover coding. She’s constantly thinking of ways to improve upon the watch she gave Oliver and what’s more, the success of the watch with Oliver has sparked ideas of other innovative tech that she could design to help other people with different medical conditions. 

She’s even brainstormed a catchy name for an entire line of technology designed to help with medical issues - ‘MedTech by Smoak Tech’. 

Okay. So maybe it isn’t _ that _ catchy. But it’s a start. And it’s the first real move she’s taken towards making Smoak Tech a reality. Well, that _ and _ registering a trademark for the name ‘Smoak Tech’. Once she’s out of here, she’s going to really go for it. How can she not, when she’s seen how much Watchover has helped Oliver? The very idea that she could do _ that _for thousands of people in the world makes her spirits soar. 

After a while, she’s done all the tinkering she can reasonably do on the Watchover coding, so she begins to fiddle with her newest idea: a neural implant chip that would, hypothetically, be able to utilize electrical stimulation to override paralysis and allow paralyzed body parts to move. 

It’s ambitious in the extreme. And definitely not something she’ll be able to perfect or roll out anytime soon. Something like this will require a greater degree of extensive testing, not to mention implantation by a doctor. Even assuming she manages to pull off this idea, there will be FDA hoops to jump through and the like. But this? This is Felicity’s next grand idea for the MedTech line. 

She’s still working with single minded focus on her tablet, crunching numbers and coding, when a familiar knock at the door tears her attention away. Oliver stands before her, a bright albeit weary smile on his face. 

“There she is,” he hums happily and Felicity can’t help the involuntary smile that his appearance elicits. 

“I was wondering if I was going to see you. How’s my guy?” 

“Tired,” Oliver admits, hanging his head as he slips into the room. Felicity scoots over in the bed to make room for him and without a second thought he slides in beside her. He scoots down in the bed so that his head rests on her chest and shoulder and instinctively, her arm curves around him, holding him close. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

He huffs a sigh and buries his face against her for a moment but nods; whatever it is, he’s clearly ready to get something off his chest. 

“My mom stopped me again today. The QC board is getting antsy; my mom’s been acting as the interim CEO but the board wants a permanent appointment by the end of the week and my mom wants to name me as my dad’s successor.” 

“Wow,” Felicity breathes, her fingers trailing gently against his face and running soothingly through his hair. “-that’s a big ask.” 

“It’s a _ huge _ask. It’s a massive responsibility. And it’s not what I ever pictured for myself. My dad was the CEO type. I’ve never been that guy. I skated through college on my family’s reputation and money. I’m not cut out for taking over my father’s legacy.” 

Felicity longs to press a kiss to the top of his head but as always, she’s prohibited from moving in such a manner by her neck brace. Instead, she settles for touching the side of his face softly, her eyes running over his features tenderly. 

“For whatever it’s worth? I have every faith you would do your father proud. But that’s not what this is about.” 

“It’s not?” 

“No. Oliver, I believe you would rise to the occasion if you took over as CEO. I’m sure it would be hard and there would be plenty of bumps in the road - that’s true of anyone taking on a new challenge though. But that’s not what this is really about. The real question here is ‘what do _ you _ want to do?’. And if the answer to that isn’t that you _ absolutely _want to become the CEO of Queen Consolidated, then you shouldn’t do it.” 

“I shouldn’t?” 

“Not if you don’t want to, no. You should do whatever makes you happy. Granted, I never got to know your father. And I’m hardly the foremost expert on dads, seeing as I never got to really know mine. But I have to believe that any father worth his salt would want his child to be happy, first and foremost.” 

“You think so?” 

“I do.” 

“But if I don’t become the CEO of QC… who will?”

“Believe it or not, I’m sure the Board of Directors has a few ideas on who should assume that mantle. That’s kind of what they’re there for, to ensure the company’s success and longevity. They’ll figure something out,” she teases him, tapping the tip of his nose with one finger. This elicits a soft chuckle from him and he shifts a little to rise up beside her, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he presses a kiss to the tip of her nose, feather light and fleeting. 

As always, her response to this contact (which is still strictly prohibited) is visceral. These delicate, cautious kisses have been few and far between but each and every time, Felicity feels as though she’s run a marathon; a kiss from Oliver is all it takes to make her heart race and her breath come in great, uneven gasps.

It doesn’t escape his attention; she notices the way he grins and his eyes sparkle, but he doesn’t comment on her reaction to the kiss. Instead, he rolls back to lay beside her and carries on, as if he _ hasn’t _just rocked her world in the best way (presently) possible. 

“Well, Miss ‘I have all the answers’, if I don’t follow my father’s footsteps and become the CEO of the family business, what do you propose I do with myself? I can’t very well be a degenerate trust fund baby all my life. What would your mother say about you dating such a bum?”

At this, Felicity snorts.

“Oh please. My mother would be _ overjoyed. _ Let’s face it, she already _ is. _ But I do think you would be happier if you found something to do _ other _than living off your inheritance. I can’t tell you what to do though; only you can decide that. But I’ll be here to support you, no matter what you choose.” 

Silence descends between them and Felicity relaxes into it; one of the beautiful aspects of her relationship with Oliver is that they’re comfortable in the quiet. She lets him process what they’ve discussed even as she considers his predicament. What should Oliver do? She truly doesn’t know. The world is his oyster. She has some ideas as to what he might excel at but mostly, she just wants him to find something that brings him joy. Felicity hates that ‘being happy’ is such a novel concept for him. It’s clear that all his life, people were busy grooming him to take over QC. Has anyone ever asked him what would make him happy before now? 

“My mother’s going to be furious,” Oliver whispers suddenly and Felicity exhales slowly.

“She will. But you can’t be responsible for everyone else’s happiness, Oliver. Being responsible for your own is burden enough. For now… Just worry about figuring out something that will make you excited to get out of bed and go to work every day.” 

They fall into easy conversation after this, and Felicity is delighted when Oliver asks to play their game. He writes suggestions for dinner on her palm in the usual fashion. _ Pizza. Burgers. Chinese. Sandwiches. _These are small, simple joys but Felicity cherishes them more than words can say. The feel of his fingers tracing across her palm is a minor thing in the grand scheme of things, but what is life if not a compilation of small, wondrous moments such as these? 

They settle on Chinese and eventually, Oliver ducks out to pick it up; he’s using his ‘food delivery guy’ schtick again tonight to get him back in after visiting hours have ended, so the Chinese food provides the perfect cover. As he goes to leave, he lifts her hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. 

“I’ll be back soon. I love you.” 

Those words will _ never _grow old. 

“I love you too.” 

\-----

Roy’s finishing up his first set of rounds in the recovery center that night when he sees Oliver Queen sneaking back into the building in his tried and true ‘food delivery guy’ disguise. It’s perhaps the crappiest excuse for a disguise that Roy has ever seen (that wig is seriously hideous and the cap and shades do precisely NOTHING to obscure Oliver’s identity) but Roy lets it slide, just as he’s let it slide every other time he’s seen Oliver pulling this stunt. 

The first time Roy caught wind of Oliver breaking visiting hours to spend the night in Felicity’s room, he’d been fully prepared to bust the pair of them and give them a serious ass chewing. But when he’d gotten just outside Room 406, he eavesdropped on the conversation being shared between the two of them and somehow, the quiet, kind words they exchanged and their unwavering support and apparent love won him over. 

As it turns out, he’s apparently a serious chump or a major softie. Or both. Whatever the case, he hasn’t had the heart to bust them. From what he’s managed to overhear through the closed door, everything is completely innocent, so Felicity’s neck injury isn’t at any risk of being injured, insofar as Roy can see. And it’s obvious that being together improves both of their moods substantially. So who gives a shit if Felicity and Oliver break the rules? 

Roy isn’t a nark. And the recovery center rules can be overkill at times, in his humble opinion. Besides, it feels kind of fun to fly in the face of authority and do something to help these two be together. From what he’s heard from the rest of the staff, their story is kind of crazy. After all, how many people can say they met their significant other while sharing a semi private hospital room while one person was blind and the other (nearly) paralyzed? 

Roy’s willing to bet there’s not many out there with similar stories. So yeah, he lets Oliver ‘sneak’ in and he overlooks Oliver’s horrible costumes. And when he catches sight of Oliver ducking in or out of Felicity’s room when he shouldn’t be, Roy just looks the other way. 

These two have had enough hardship without him adding to it. If they want to be together, who’s he to stop them? Besides, this job doesn’t pay nearly well enough for him to try and throw out Oliver freaking Queen. The dude might be recovering from the injuries he sustained in his accident but the guy is still ripped and plenty bigger than Roy. He doesn’t need to anger the guy. 

And just like that, Roy joins the ranks of hospital and recovery center staff who have been charmed into rooting for Oliver and Felicity. Their love is an irresistible sort; it’s impossible not to root for them. They’re the most unlikely pair, brought together by the most unusual of circumstances. Because of the accidents that nearly ruined their lives, they’ve found the greatest kind of love; from the darkness, they have found light. 

How does anyone witness that kind of all consuming, genuine, true love and _ not _root for it? 

\-----

_ A few months later... _

\-----

Oliver is not normally one for counting down the days. Crossing off days on the calendar has never been his thing - until now. 

Today is a day he’s been waiting on for what seems an eternity. He is more excited today than he was the day Diggle cleared him to be finished with PT, after months of _ arduous _sessions. He’s more excited now than he was the day Felicity got to stand for the first time at PT. Why, he’s even more excited than he was the night he surprised her with stargazing on the roof of the hospital. 

At this moment, Oliver is more excited than any of those days _ combined_. Because today Felicity gets her neck brace off. And for the first time since he’s met her, she will be free of traction, casts, or braces. On this momentous day, Felicity will check out of the long term recovery center. After all this time, Felicity is going to go _ home _ and finally resume living a normal life. And after what has felt like a lifetime of waiting, Oliver is going to get to kiss the woman that he loves. _ Really _kiss her. 

Today is therefore a tremendously exciting day. 

He strides through the familiar halls of the hospital, eager to get to Felicity. She was wheeled over from the recovery center to the hospital by one of the staff earlier this morning so that she could have another physical therapy session with Diggle. When that’s done, she’ll finally be cleared to have the neck brace removed and then they’ll get to check her out of the recovery center and she’ll get to go home at last. 

It’s enough to put a spring in Oliver’s step; or it would be, if he didn’t have a limp. Granted, it’s just a minor one, but it does make things such as ‘springing’ a little less natural to him. According to Diggle, he’ll likely have the limp forever, but better a limp than being unable to walk, right? His crush injuries were so severe, Oliver’s just happy to be on his own two feet and not in the wheelchair he was temporarily reliant upon. 

His TBI has healed nicely - he doesn’t struggle with words these days and generally, he doesn’t have issues with speaking. His vision isn’t quite the 20/20 that it was before the accident and at this point, it’s unlikely that it will ever go back to how it was. Who cares that his vision isn’t as sharp as before though? Oliver’s just happy to be able to see at all. He’s happy about a lot of things these days.

As he walks carefully through the halls of the hospital though, his greatest source of happiness lies ahead. 

Felicity has spent months confined in some form or fashion. Even with the increased freedom and mobility afforded her by her softer neck brace and the long term recovery center, she’s still experienced no small amount of frustration at her limitations. Oliver knows that Felicity is more than ready to finally be free of her brace and free of hospitals and recovery centers. 

She spent a couple months in the hospital with him after the initial accident and her subsequent surgery. The doctor’s estimate on the recovery time for the bone graft procedure on her hip was six months alone and indeed, it took every bit of those six months for her hip to mend. The timeline of her recovery has been a long, drawn out affair filled with plenty of bumps in the road. But it’s about to end and given the results? In Oliver’s humble opinion, the waiting has been worth it.

Felicity’s spinal fusion surgery has been considered a success at this point; her x-rays show that her cervical vertebrae have healed better than expected thanks to the pedicle screws and wire the doctors put in, along with the bone graft from her hip. Felicity has regained full sensation throughout her entire body. The sole exception is a small patch of skin on the back of her neck, right where they cut her open for her surgery. She has never regained sensation in that small couple square inch area of skin but other than that? She’s done the unthinkable. 

She’s come back from a broken neck no worse for wear, for all intents and purposes. 

Sure, she’ll always have to protect her neck and there are many activities she’ll have to refrain from for safety’s sake. Things like skiing and jumping on a trampoline are probably going to be off limits to her, in the interest of protecting her neck from reinjury (which would almost certainly cause complete and total paralysis). But Felicity can walk. She can lead a normal life. Considering that she was on the verge of paralysis before, this is nothing short of amazing in Oliver’s book. Miraculous, even.

And if a miraculous recovery like that isn’t worth celebrating, Oliver doesn’t know what is. Today Felicity gets her freedom back. Today, she gets to take off the neck brace and walk out of this hospital on her own two feet, knowing that she (hopefully) won’t need to come back. 

She’s going to get to go _ home_.

As he rounds the corner into the bright, airy room where the specialists have seen her for her follow up appointments, he hears the familiar, musical voice that makes his heart beat a little faster and a little harder without fail _ every _ time he hears it. She’s going through her daily range of motion exercises with Diggle and from the sounds of it, they’re in the middle of a conversation they’ve had more than once. 

“John! Come on, not this again!” 

Oliver pauses just outside the consult room, not wanting to interrupt what sounds to be a lively conversation. He’s staring at the bouquet of sunflowers he’s bought for her when he hears it.

“What do you mean come on? He comes in here every day that you do. They had to practically chase him out of your room when he was discharged before you, and he’s at your bedside at the recovery center almost every day. And I happen to have it on good authority that he sneaks back into your room over there to spend the night - _ regularly_. I’m just saying, these are not the actions of a guy who is just casually interested.” 

Oliver can’t help but laugh silently at this. For as hard as Diggle was on him in PT, he knows the man has his back. And this? This has got to be the best secret wingman act around. And for the record? John is totally right. Oliver’s maintained his overnight break-in routine over at the recovery center for _ months _now. He’s over at least once or twice a week without fail, sleeping curled up in the cramped hospital chair at her bedside. They fall asleep most nights hand in hand, and they wake to their phone alarms chirping warily at them in the morning. He sneaks out before morning rounds and shows up again when visiting hours start for the day, the recovery center staff none the wiser for it.

What can he say? Felicity’s worth every sore muscle and sleepless night he’s endured. 

“So because Oliver came to visit me so often after he was discharged, he _ must _be planning on marrying me, hmm? And because he’s a good boyfriend and shows up to all my PT appointments and follow ups, he’s definitely got a ring?” Felicity doesn’t quite play coy, but she definitely isn’t letting on the truth. Because, thanks to Diggle’s prodding, Oliver has told her already and in no uncertain terms precisely what she means to him. So this whole dismissive routine when confronted with questions about the nature of their relationship? It’s definitely an act, one they’ve both employed to give themselves a little privacy. 

Not exactly easy to accomplish when the staff make mountains out of mole hills to the point that the two of them simply holding hands is hospital wide gossip in five seconds flat. Or at least, it would be if they hadn’t held hands for hours each and every day for the past few months. Still, the point is the staff? They’re _ very _dialed into how things are progressing between Oliver and Felicity. 

“I mean, he’s already done the ‘for better or worse’ thing - you guys are _ basically _married already. So yeah, if he’s got any sense at all, he’s gonna make it official.” 

Oliver smirks, shaking his head. The hospital staff have become entirely invested in his and Felicity’s relationship. Even now, with both of them discharged from the hospital proper, the pair still are the subject of plenty of hospital gossip that flares up every time Felicity comes in for a follow up or PT, Oliver accompanying her. It would be funny, even sweet, if Diggle weren’t so damn _ on the money _; he’s totally going to ruin the surprise. Oliver’s hand slips into his coat pocket and for the thousandth time, he confirms that the ring box is in there. 

It is. 

He’s been carrying it in his pocket virtually since he was released from the hospital. Oliver knows that his mother will say it’s too soon and that people will talk behind his back. But he doesn’t need to spend years getting to know Felicity; he’s spent the better part of a year getting to know every facet of her; all of her strengths, all of her weaknesses. Every fear and every passion, each telltale quirk, he’s committed to memory. And the writing is on the wall.

He loves Felicity. And he knows she loves him too. It’s a deep, life affirming, soul deep kind of love. If this experience has taught them anything, it’s that life is precious and they both want so much more from it than the four walls of this hospital have to offer. And neither of them wants to wait when they both know all too well how quickly life can take it all away from them.

He wants to spend the rest of his life with her. And he’s pretty sure she wants to spend the rest of hers with him. So yeah, he’s been carrying a ring in his pocket, just waiting for the right time. Oliver takes a deep breath and with a smile firmly fixed onto his face, he steps into the doorway of the room, knocking as he enters.

“Hey there, beautiful.” 

“Hey handsome.” Felicity responds quickly with a toothy grin. She’s lying on the exam table on her side, her face to the doorway, so she’s seen him enter right away. 

“Diggle,” Oliver greets the man, nodding at him warmly as he reaches forward to shake hands with his own therapist turned friend (and sometimes life coach).

“Hey man! We were just talking about you. She’s almost finished up. You two ready for today?” John inquires, though they all know the answer to that. 

“Extremely ready.” Felicity voices what they’re all feeling, her eyes bright as they stay trained on Oliver’s face. “I’ve got some debts that need paying off.” 

Oliver is all smiles, his eyes locked on hers as he runs through the list of things she’s promised him. A kiss. A walk. A dance. He’s eager for all of them. And he’s hopeful that, someday, she’ll add another promise to that list.

‘For as long as we both shall live’

He thinks it has a nice ring to it. And the bright side?

A wedding would include all of her promised ‘to-do list’. How convenient is that? 

“Alright well, I think we’re just about finished here. How’s about I go get Doctor Raymond and Doctor Schwartz?” Diggle offers and Felicity beams.

“YES!” She shouts victoriously and both men smile.

“Excellent. I’ll be back in a bit. You two sit tight.” 

Oliver pulls up his normal seat beside her and offers her his hand. She takes it warmly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling.. 

“You feel like playing our game?” he asks her and she smiles joyously at him. 

“With you? Always.” 

“Okay. I’ll write, you guess.” Oliver instructs and Felicity obediently relinquishes her grasp on his hand and lays her palm flat for him to write on with his finger. “Close your eyes - _ no peeking_,” he murmurs to her in mock warning and Felicity chuckles but acquiesces. Making certain she’s not cheating (not that she needs to, she’s incredibly good at their game but sometimes she gets cheeky), Oliver touches his finger to her palm and slowly traces the first letter. 

They fall into the rhythm of the game easily. In short order, she’s already correctly guessed the first two words - ‘Will’ and ‘You’ and they’re starting on the third. 

“M!” She guesses quickly; her skills at this game have only intensified over the past few months of playing it daily with him. She hasn’t missed a letter in _ ages _and the last time she guessed wrong, she was distracted so it didn’t really count as a miss. He’s counting on her accuracy now as he taps her wrist - their silent signal that the guess was correct. 

“A!” she beams and he chuckles. 

“R,” her voice is confident and strong, cocky even; she loves playing this game and honestly, so does he. 

“Another R,” she sighs, her lips lifting into a faint smile as his finger taps her wrist. _ Right again_. He hesitates for just a moment and then he writes the next letter - _ Y_.

Her reaction is everything he could have hoped for and more. Her eyes snap open with cartoonish speed at the same time as she inhales sharply. Her eyes meet his and there’s abundant surprise and disbelief and joy within them. Her lips part in shock as she gapes at him and he can almost _ see _her brain struggling to form words. In answer, he just shakes his head at her.

“I said no peeking, Smoak,” he teases and she swallows, at a loss for words as she stares at him. There are tears building behind her eyes as he smiles at her and slowly, reluctantly, she closes them again. When she speaks this time, she’s breathless and there’s a quaver to her voice that wasn’t there before. 

“Y?”

He taps her wrist once and he sees her lips part as she inhales a little raggedly. He passes his palm over hers once, signalling the start of a new word. 

“M,” her voice is hoarse as he taps her wrist yet again. 

“E,” there’s a quaver to her voice and he can hear the tears she’s fending off. He smiles a little and then writes the final symbol. 

“Q-Question mark,” she stammers and he grins as he taps her wrist for a final time. _ Correct_. 

“You can open your eyes now,” he murmurs and when she does, her blue eyes are swimming in happy tears. Right away, she grabs for his hand, her eyes holding his and refusing to let go.

“My turn to write,” she insists and he offers her his hand with a grin as her shaking finger makes contact with his palm. Despite this encouraging response, his heart is still in his throat as he waits to see what the first letter will be.

He nearly whoops with joy when he feels her write it against his palm.

“Y,” his voice cracks as he says the letter aloud and his heart stops as she taps his wrist to indicate he’s correct.

“E.” 

“S.” 

She taps his wrist as he correctly guesses the final letter and he beams as he looks at her beautiful face, awash with tears. From his pocket, he fishes out the ring box and cracks it open for her to see the ring inside. When she does, her eyes grow wide and she can’t help the laugh that wrenches free from her as he slips the diamond ring over her finger with steady hands. 

“If I could kiss your tears away right now, I would,” he informs her tenderly and she gasps between happy sobs as he instead takes her hand in his and kisses it lovingly. 

“Give me about five minutes, and you two can do precisely that,” a familiar voice interrupts them. 

Oliver turns and finds Doctor Schwartz standing at the entrance to the hospital room. Behind her, the entire contingent of doctors and nursing staff are standing, all of them wearing various expressions of shock or adoration; they’ve apparently all come to see Felicity get her neck brace off and instead, have witnessed Oliver’s proposal.

Somehow, that just fits their story. 

“Please, let’s make it snappy guys. I _ really _need to kiss him now!” Felicity cries smilingly, her eyes still trained on Oliver as he beams at her from his vantage seated at her bedside. 

It doesn’t take long; Doctor Schwartz’s stern warning regarding activities that are and are not permissible takes longer than the actual removal itself. 

“No contact sports. Absolutely no skateboarding. No diving into shallow pools. I would honestly prefer it if you avoided diving altogether, honestly.” 

“Duly noted.” 

“Wear a seatbelt anytime you are traveling in a motorized vehicle - that’s non-negotiable.” 

“Don’t worry, my seat belt and I are totally on good terms with each other.” 

“I want you to continue with your therapy exercise routine at home. And make sure you are using heat packs and ice packs to help manage pain. Make sure that there are no trip hazards in your home. I’d like you to avoid driving for at least the first two weeks while you acclimate. And we’re going to be sending you home today with literature regarding some dietary changes you can make to help promote stronger bones.”

“I’m sensing that I’m about to become a poster child for the ‘Got Milk’ campaign,” Felicity teases lightheartedly, grinning through all of Doctor Schwartz’s lecture. The doctor fixes her with a stern look but eventually sighs and shakes her head smilingly. 

“Be careful. _ Please_. As much as all of us around here love you - _ both _of you - I would greatly prefer not to see you around here again. You hear me?” 

“Loud and clear.” Felicity responds honestly. “Trust me. I - _ we _\- have had enough of hospitals to last us a lifetime. No offense, you guys.” 

“Alright. My last warning is that you should avoid strenuous exercise until Mister Diggle gives you the all clear,” Doctor Schwartz pauses and turns her gaze to Oliver now, her expression sharp and deathly serious. “And for the record you two? ‘Strenuous exercise’ in this case also includes _ sex_.” 

Felicity’s cheeks turn bright red and Oliver is acutely aware of his own face feeling suddenly hot. All eyes are definitely on them and Oliver’s at a loss for what to say to ease the awkwardness when Felicity pipes up, taking his breath away.

“You guys really know how to take the wind out of a girl’s sails, you know that?” 

And just like that, Felicity’s teasing elicits a smattering of laughter and Oliver lets his eyes fall to her in disbelief. _ Did she really…? _

Yep. She said that. God, he loves her. 

“I still get to kiss him though, right?” Felicity inquires seriously and Doctor Schwartz chuckles.

“If you don’t, I’m going to have a very disappointed medical staff on my hands.” 

“You hear that Oliver? I _ have _to kiss you. It’s basically Doctor’s orders,” she winks at him, but Felicity winks are always the best because she can’t seem to manage a wink without closing both eyes in some form or fashion and he utterly loves it. 

“Sounds like you’ve got no choice but to pay up, Smoak,” Oliver teases back, grinning like a loon just for looking at her. He’s so happy and so excited and so overflowing with love for this woman that his heart might burst with anticipation. 

“Alright then - Felicity, if you’re ready, let’s do this,” Doctor Schwartz readies her patient and Felicity’s eyes go round with excitement.

“Ready! So ready. Very, _ very _ready. Born ready. The readiest of readies,” she babbles anxiously, going completely still except for the hand gripping Oliver’s tightly. Doctor Schwartz moves forward and her hands go to Felicity’s neck, expertly undoing the straps and clips on either side before carefully prying apart the two pieces that form the brace. 

And, almost too easily, Felicity is free. 

As Doctor Schwartz backs away, there’s thunderous applause from the gathered medical staff. Oliver releases Felicity’s hand and she raises both of hers to touch gingerly at her neck, her eyes wide as she feels the suddenly free and exposed planes of skin.

Oliver’s eyes are trained on the gentle slope of her throat. Already, he’s envisioning kissing along her jaw and down her neckline. His fingers itch with the desire to cup her face in his hands as he’s wanted to do a half a hundred times a day, ever since he met her. Despite his eagerness though, he simply watches and waits. There’s something mesmerizing and beautiful about watching Felicity rediscover herself right in front of him. He can see the thin skin over her throat move as she swallows nervously and then, slowly, she turns to face him.

And yes, the range of motion she’s got will forever be limited by the fusion surgery the doctors had to perform. But Felicity has just turned her head to look at him without having to pivot her entire body. It’s something on the level of a small miracle and he delights in it. 

“So… do you still want to marry me now that I’m not the girl in the neck brace?” She’s teasing him, he knows, but the very idea that he could change his mind is laughable. 

“Yeah… I do,” Oliver offers her a crooked grin and cocks his head to the side playfully. “Did you see what I did there? ‘I do’. I’m already practicing.” 

“Get over here,” she breathes at him, her eyes sparkling. But Oliver has another idea.

“_ You _ get over _ here_,” he retorts, holding his hands out for her invitingly. Her eyes shine as she carefully swings her feet over the edge of the exam table, her shoes touching noiselessly on the tile floor. With a careful motion, she pushes her weight off of the table and she walks the two steps to him, her head held high. 

She rises onto the tips of her toes as soon as she reaches him; the kiss almost catches him off guard. One second she’s in front of him, beaming at him like the sun, the next her lips are on his and she’s kissing him soft and featherlight. Her hands touch uncertainly on his chest and she hesitates for just a moment before she curves one hand to the nape of his neck, confidently holding him to her as she moves to deepen the kiss. 

And he can feel the tremble of her body against his, he can see the excitement in her eyes and can taste her eagerness in the kiss. But when his fingertips skim up the length of her neck and come to rest with one hand on either side of her face, Felicity goes still, her eyes wide with surprise at the foreign touch. He continues holding her face delicately and with great consideration. And he can tell - it’s almost as though she’s forgotten what it's like to be touched and held in this way. And that’s alright.

They have plenty of time for him to remind her. 

Her eyes finally lift to meet his again and when she sees him staring at her, whatever she sees in his eyes seems to reassure her. She smiles his favorite smile - soft and genuine and slow - and he feels his own lips curving into an answering grin. He can hardly believe that this is happening. Months of waiting have led to this moment. 

His lips seek hers in a kiss that is so soft and so tender yet so eager that Oliver loses himself in it. It’s everything he could have pictured and more. His heart soars as his lips slant over hers lovingly. The kiss goes on for some time, until the need for air finally parts them. 

“Hi you,” he croons at her and her nose crinkles as she grins up at him.

“Hey there.”

Their lips hover mere millimeters apart, their breath commingling before they go in for another kiss, this one somehow softer still as he focuses his attention on her lower lip, after which she angles her head to the side and kisses the corner of his mouth. 

They break apart for a moment again, panting lightly and his lips linger near hers.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first day we met,” he confesses and she closes her eyes for a moment and smiles. 

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.” 

“I’ve wanted to do this since right about then too.” 

She leans into him again, their lips brushing gently at first and then more insistently. Kissing her is like setting a match to kerosene; he feels as if his soul is on fire and he doesn’t want it to ever stop. But just as his tongue strokes hers tentatively, the sound of a throat clearing across the room draws their attention and reluctantly, they break apart. Their world expands once more to include the medical entourage watching them.

Diggle is at the forefront of the crowd and as Oliver watches, the physical therapist uncrosses his arms and begins to clap. _ Loudly_. He’s quickly joined by Barry, Doctor Snow, and Doctor Ramon the latter going so far as to whoop jovially. The rest of the staff joins in and Oliver lets his hand fall from Felicity’s back to hold her hand as they share a look and both break out into wide smiles. 

They’ve got plenty of time for kissing once they leave here. And for all the things that will come after.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well you guys, we've reached the end! I need to thank my stupendous Beta, Elley for all of her editing and suggestions and of course, encouragement. Big thanks also go to Calli for being so supportive and helping me with this story. And of course, you all. This story was originally meant to be a brief 4 chapter tale and because of your outpouring of encouragement, it grew to be more than I had imagined. Thank you for giving me more time to play in the sandbox of this universe. It has been SUCH a delightful ride and I truthfully already miss this story. I hope you enjoy this little epilogue and thank you for reading. This story is what it is because of you all!!

\-----

_Four Years Later_

\-----

“Danvers, Mister Wilson needs a final consult to be sure his Watchover is calibrated correctly and then he can be discharged. Get that handled, please. Kane, Doctor Schwartz is still waiting on those test results for Mister Darhk. And can someone please tell me where our Psych consult is for Mister Chase in room 319?” Doctor Snow directs the young interns and other hospital staff as she breezes to the nurse’s station, busy as ever. When she catches sight of a familiar face though, she pulls up short. 

“Barry, did you hear the news?” 

“What, that Mister Wilson in 320 is getting out? Yeah, about time. He hasn’t had an episode in days and his Watchover consults have been going really well. Doctor Schwartz said he can get discharged this morning…” Barry trails off, engrossed in another patient’s chart as he sits down in front of Doctor Snow, missing the way that she rolls her eyes at him good naturedly.

“No, not _ that _news. The news about our all time favorite residents of Room 320 stopping in for a visit,” Caitlin announces crisply and Barry goes stock still for several long seconds before he spins to face his friend, his eyes wide. 

“You’re joking.” 

“Scout’s honor. I heard it from Doctor Schwartz. They’re coming by today and they scheduled a consult with her to discuss some concerns they have regarding _ her _spine.” 

“Hold up, time out - who are we talking about here?!”

Kara Danvers, one of the newest crop of interns, is standing hopefully at the nurse’s station, looking from Doctor Snow to Barry and back again. 

“Danvers do you have-”

“Mister Wilson’s final consult paperwork, and his signed discharge papers. Right here. He's leaving now,” Danvers offers the aforementioned documents along with a dazzling smile, eager to please Doctor Snow - her defacto mentor and role model. “Now, who were you talking about?” 

Caitlin shares a smirk and a knowing look with Barry, then shakes her head.

“Former patients of ours coming back for a visit.” 

“What patients come back for a visit? And why is that big news?” Kate Kane queries as she joins the group forming at the station. She slumps against the desk nonchalantly, looking around expectantly. 

“They were special patients. And they became like friends to a lot of the staff here, so we’re excited, that’s all.” Caitlin dismisses, pushing away from the station, the paperwork on Mister Wilson in her hand. “Kane, the-”

“-test results for Darhk. Yeah. On it.” Kane holds aloft a pair of vials filled with blood samples from the patient in question. “I’ll make sure they run a full chem and CBC.” 

“Thank you!” Caitlin chimes happily, striding across the ICU floor. 

“What, that’s all you’re going to give us? Seriously?” Kane calls at her retreating figure and Caitlin spins to face the group, shrugging unapologetically. 

“Duty calls!” 

As the double doors close on her retreating figure, both Kane and Danvers turn to look at Barry expectantly. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks nervously as he catches them staring and Danvers’ stony expression turns pleading.

“Oh come on, we know there’s more to the story than that, otherwise you guys wouldn’t be excited. Fill us in!” 

“I really don’t care either way.” Kane remarks in faux disinterest and Barry snorts, not buying the act even for a moment. 

“Well _ I _am!” Nate Heywood, another intern, announces crisply as he joins his peers at the station, looking around animatedly. “So what’s the deal, huh? What’d I miss?” 

“Some old patients are coming back for a visit and Barry’s all atwitter about it,” Kane remarks dryly and Heywood spins to look at Barry.

“Is that true? What’s the story there?” 

“Come on Barry, please spill!” Danvers chimes in and Barry rolls his eyes. It’s not like he’s got time for this. But at the same time… this _ is _a story he loves to tell.

“It’s a little difficult to explain,” Barry sighs as he passes a hand through his hair. He’s got a million and one things to do, including more discharges to oversee and a patient in Room 316 who’s driving him nuts. 

But how can he _ not _pause and take a moment to educate the newest crop of interns on the single most epic romance ever to grace the hospital’s halls? 

“Okay so it’s like this: Doctor Snow and Doctor Raymond are like… the _ dream _ couple, right?” Barry leads them and the interns nod along. “False. Don’t get me wrong, those two are great. Seriously solid. But the ‘ _ dream couple’ _ will forever be the occupants of Room 320 a few years back. She came in with a cervical fracture and radiating numbness in her extremities. He came in with a mild TBI and temporary blindness because of Terson syndrome. The ICU was full up so they were placed in one of the semi-private rooms together. And that is how a love story was born,” Barry grins triumphantly, looking from intern to intern. He’s shocked that none of them are swooning. How are they not swooning? He must have told it wrong. 

“Yeah, so?” 

“So? So they couldn’t see each other! She was in traction and couldn’t move, and he was blind and could only hear her voice! But they were a constant support to one another. They went out of their way to look out for each other and they talked to each other through it all. Every complication, every milestone, they were there for it! Now, everyone has different opinions on when they fell for each other. If you talk with Doctor Ramon, he says it happened the night Oliver snuck Felicity onto the roof to stargaze. Doctor Snow maintains that it was before that; she swears it was love at first sight on both their parts. But if you ask me, they fell for each other without ever having laid eyes on each other. At one point, they were separated by a room change and they both started to struggle almost immediately. They were returned to each other that same day because of how poorly they did when separated. They eventually even did PT together and when he was discharged, he kept coming back to be with her, every day until she got to leave the ICU! Then she went to a long term recovery center and he was there at her side, day in and day out. The day she finally got her neck brace off, he proposed to her and we all were there to witness the proposal - and their first kiss.” 

The group falls silent because at that precise moment, the elevator door dings. and as the group watches from the nurse’s station, a couple steps out. 

The man has a commanding presence; he’s tall and good looking, with light brown hair perfectly tousled and a permanent stubble one shade beyond five o’clock shadow but still not full blown beard. As they watch, he turns to glance back, his hand held out behind him to accommodate the woman who falls into step with him a half second later, her hand holding his tightly. 

She’s petite and blonde and with bright, intelligent eyes that take in the ICU from behind a slender pair of dark glasses. Her skin has a healthy glow to it and her cheeks are made all the rounder by the wide smile she dons as she looks up at him as he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it softly. 

“Your epic hospital lovers are _ Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak-Queen?? _” Danvers hisses in shock and a healthy measure of awe.

Grinning arrogantly, Barry nods and tears his gaze away from his former patients to look at the expressions on the interns’ faces. 

“Mhmm.” 

“You could have mentioned they were local celebrities!” Kane chimes in, her voice practically a growl.

“And miss the expressions on all of your faces right now? Not a chance,” Barry chuckles in amusement. 

It’s no small wonder the interns are in awe; if ever there was a power couple, Oliver and Felicity are it. Ever since being discharged, the pair have been making names for themselves. Oliver is now the founder of the Queen Foundation, which helps people dealing with traumatic injuries acclimate to life outside the hospital. They take on a lot of cases from Starling General and other hospitals in the city but folks can just walk in too. Barry knows from speaking with Oliver at his and Felicity’s wedding that he refused his mother’s hard push for him to become the CEO of Queen Consolidated after his father’s death. Instead, a longtime family friend of the Queens has assumed that mantle - one Walter Steele. From what Barry can tell, both Queen Consolidated and the Queen Foundation are thriving, so it seems as though Oliver made a good choice.

As for Felicity - her rise has been nothing short of meteoric. Using the watch she designed for Oliver as a launching point, Felicity created and is now the CEO and founder of Smoak Technologies. While a dominant player in all things tech related, the company has become the leading innovator of “MedTech” - medical technologies specially designed to help people in need. The watch Felicity made for Oliver is known the world over as the ‘Watchover’ and is helping people with PTSD and various sleep disorders all around the globe. 

Just today, it helped Mister Slade Wilson, the man that Danvers had discharged not long before Felicity and Oliver had arrived at the hospital. And he is far from the first to be helped by Wathcover - the hospital has a stockpile of them to give to patients and from what Barry’s read, the US military is a major purchaser of the tech as well. The company’s most recent game changer is a bio implant that will actually enable people with nerve damage to regain sensation and - according to early indications - even help paralyzed people walk again. The hospital is actually involved in the clinical trial currently underway and the results thus far have been extremely promising. 

So yeah. Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak-Queen? Definitely a big deal. Definitely changing the world. Definitely a love story to end all love stories. The interns are justified in being star struck and Barry can’t help the pep in his step that comes from knowing that he’s actually sort of _ friends _with these two. 

They’re friends right? He _ did _ attend their wedding. Granted, so did everyone else at the hospital who had interacted with them during their stay. But Barry… he was their _ nurse. _ That’s got to count for something… right? They _ have _ to be firmly in friend territory. He’s totally saying they’re friends. Mhmm. 

The couple walks with an easy familiarity across the ICU, him with a noticeable limp, her with upright, practiced posture and careful steps. When they catch sight of Barry, they both break out into grins. In unison, they say his name.

“Barry!” 

“Talk about a blast from the past!” Barry hoots, scooting past the bewildered interns to embrace Felicity before exchanging handshakes with Oliver. “Long time no see!”

“Hey, Doctor Schwartz said she didn’t want to see us back here,” Oliver defends teasingly and Felicity elbows him in the ribs playfully.

“-And we took that warning to heart. But come on Barry, it hasn’t been that long! We were here last year for the Gala, and six months before that for the unveiling of the hospital’s ten year expansion plan,” Felicity is all smiles as she reminds Barry of the couple’s recent visits. And it’s true - the pair are here at least once a year for the annual fundraiser, and they’ve been quick to donate to countless endeavors the hospital has undertaken. They’ve funded everything from research to new equipment, to much needed supplies. If the hospital has a request, they submit it to the Queen Foundation and without fail, that request is fulfilled. Oliver and Felicity, as it turns out, are exceptionally generous billionaires. 

“What can I say? It’s not the same as having you down the hall,” Barry gestures towards their old room and the couple both follow his point with their eyes, smiling as they see their old stomping grounds.

“That’s true. It’s not the same,” Felicity concedes and Oliver nods. 

“And for that I’m glad. I spent the better part of a year waiting to kiss you. Talk about living in purgatory,” Oliver teases softly and Felicity chuckles. 

“It could have been worse,” she reminds him and he nods reluctantly.

“I know, I know.” He concedes before redirecting his attention to Barry. “But anyway, when we have health concerns, we know there’s no one better to ask than you guys. So here we are.” Oliver is all smiles as he glances back down to Felicity, who returns his smile with one of her own.

And that’s the great thing about seeing them back here. Barry can see that nothing has changed in how they interact. There’s that same ease and joy in each exchange, now with a newfound level of comfort from the years they’ve spent together since their time in Room 320. It’s heartwarming in the extreme, seeing them so happy and full of love. 

“Yeah, so care to elaborate on those ‘’health concerns’? You’ve got the entire ICU floor staff in a tizzy worrying about you guys,” Barry pleads but the two just share a knowing, coy look. 

“We just had questions regarding my spinal fusion. And how it would handle some new stressors.” 

“Oh guys come on. You didn’t seriously get us all worked up over you two just to come in here asking if you can try some new positions in bed, did you?” 

“NO!” Both halves of the couple shout in unison before glancing at each other with uncertainty. It’s Oliver who speaks up first and Barry doesn’t miss the obvious twinkle in his eyes.

“We wanted to know how weight gain might impact Felicity’s fusion. And how some new supplements might impact her bone density,” he explains succinctly, rolling his shoulders nonchalantly. Barry stares at the two uncomprehendingly until a voice from behind them draws all their attention.

“In other words, Barry, I believe Oliver and Felicity are here to tell us they’re expecting. Aren’t you?” Doctor Schwartz stands behind the couple, her arms folded in front of her as she surveys the pair. Oliver and Felicity are silent for a moment, looking from Doctor Schwartz, to Barry, to each other before they turn their attention to their former doctor.

“...Guilty as charged,” Oliver sighs happily and Barry’s jaw drops to the floor in surprise. 

“So much for me telling you two no sex,” Doctor Schwartz teases lightly and Felicity goes positively scarlet. 

“In our defense, you only said no sex until I got cleared by John to resume strenuous exercise… Which I did…_ years _ago...” Felicity splutters and then trails off, unable to hide the embarrassed smile on her lips as she ducks her head against Oliver’s arm. “...You were only kidding, huh?” 

“Yes, I was.” Doctor Schwartz chuckles, beaming at her two former patients. “Congratulations - on the uh ‘physical activity’ _ and _the result of it. For the record? You gaining a normal, healthy amount of weight over your pregnancy shouldn’t negatively impact your fusion in any way. And your prenatal vitamins shouldn’t have any ill effects on your bone density. But something tells me you already knew that, you were just looking for an excuse to come in and tell us all in person, weren’t you?” 

“Right again.” Felicity responds, shaking her head. “We’re clearly not as covert as we thought we were.” 

“Uh for the record? I had _ no _clue,” Barry offers hopefully and the young couple smiles appreciatively. 

“Thanks Barry.” 

“In fairness, I _ did _ just come from a meeting with the Chief of Staff, who informed me that _ someone _recently donated more than the requested funds to fully renovate the NICU and asked that the additional capital be used for improvements to the Labor & Delivery wing. I connected the dots from there,” the doctor confesses smilingly. 

“In our defense, we would have donated to both of those things even if we weren’t expecting. And we agreed to fund the NICU before we even knew! Once we found out, we just decided to do a little more because… well, why not,” Felicity chirps, her cheeks flushing with color. “You guys know we can never say no to you here. We owed you everything before and now with this little one...” 

Oliver and Felicity share a look and smile as Oliver snugs her against him, one arm curved lovingly around her while his other hand falls to cover her stomach protectively.

“Now we have you guys to thank for our family, too.” 

Oliver’s words are gentle and tender as he turns his focus from his expectant wife to the very staff responsible for getting them to this point. Were it not for their care and compassion, either or both of them could very easily have been lost, and their stories could have turned out far differently. 

In short order, the ICU staff who were around for Oliver and Felicity’s hospital stay make their way to the nurse’s station to see them. Everyone is delighted with the news of the pregnancy, but Oliver and Felicity are equally delighted by the news from the staff. Felicity is ecstatic over the news of Doctor Snow’s engagement to Doctor Raymond. Oliver is kind enough to entertain Cisco as he asks for advice on how to put the moves on the new cafeteria employee, Kendra, who he’s been wooing (or at least, attempting to woo). Diggle gets paged to the ICU and is over the moon to learn about the forthcoming Baby Queen, but is perhaps most delighted to see Felicity’s range of motion and Oliver’s ground eating stride, limp and all.

The hospital staff have certainly served their patients well, and their remarkable recoveries some five plus years out from the day of their injuries? It encourages and uplifts them all to see the couple thriving and happy. 

“So… while we really did want to tell your our news in person, Doctor Schwartz, we also had another reason for coming here today,” Felicity explains timidly, one hand twirling a lock of hair anxiously. “We’re actually due for a checkup and… We know it’s not really your normal field of expertise, but we were kind of hoping you guys would be game for doing baby’s first ultrasound?” Felicity asks hopefully, biting her lip as she finishes asking the question. Doctor Schwartz and the rest of the staff seem to collectively inhale in surprise and all eyes turn to the doctor in question, who beams joyously. 

“I think we can arrange that. Barry? Room 320 is empty, isn’t it?” 

The Charge Nurse perks up suddenly, his face splitting into a wide smile.

“Yeah, Mister Wilson was discharged just a little while ago, as it so happens.” 

“Marvelous. Let’s get the Queens set up in there for the ultrasound - for old time’s sake.” 

In short order, the pair are back in the room where it all started. Felicity takes up residence in the bed furthest from the door and Oliver pulls up a seat next to her. For a moment, Barry’s quite convinced he’s traveled to the past because this? This is a scene right out of his memories. 

Together, the hospital staff crowd into Room 320 as Doctor Schwartz readies the equipment. There’s a soft hum of excitement as everyone waits with bated breath. When at last, Doctor Schwartz turns to the couple with a smile and asks Felicity to lift up her shirt, everyone falls silent. 

Felicity is given the usual heads up that the ultrasound jelly may feel cold. She nods wordlessly, her right hand clasped between both of Oliver’s hands as the pair watch the screen, waiting to be shown their baby. 

The screen comes to life in a crackle of black and white static as Doctor Schwartz scans Felicity’s stomach. The picture moves and though Barry’s seen it all before, he can’t help but feed into the current of excitement going through the room. Doctor Snow and Doctor Raymond are in here, as is Doctor Ramon. Diggle and his assistant Sara too. Virtually all of the staff who had anything to do with the couple have crowded round and while most of the staff are watching the ultrasound screen, Barry tears his eyes away so he can study Oliver and Felicity themselves. 

Felicity is enamored; her gaze is trained on the screen with expectant joy; her cheeks are pleasantly flushed and her eyes bright. There’s a softness to her expression that belies the quiet, deep love radiating off of her. As Barry watches, she turns for a moment to share a look with Oliver and if possible, her smile widens and turns the faintest bit shy. 

And Oliver. Wow. Barry’s never seen the guy so happy - the closest thing was on his wedding day, when Felicity appeared to walk down the aisle, with Diggle giving her away. Barry had thought that Oliver might die of happiness. But his glee then pales in comparison to the exultant joy on his features now. For a man who first entered this hospital heartbroken and mangled, he has returned to it now triumphant, overjoyed, and whole. Oliver’s eyes are trained on Felicity, drinking her in like he still can’t believe she’s real. He only tears himself away when Felicity’s soft inhale draws his attention back to the ultrasound screen. Barry’s still watching the couple when Doctor Schwartz explains what she’s just brought into view. 

“Oliver, Felicity, meet your little one,” she beams and Barry sees the precise moment that Oliver catches sight of his unborn child. There’s a look of such pure, unadulterated wonder on his face and he’s simultaneously so thunderstruck. Barry thinks it may be the most pure look of love he’s ever seen. As he watches, Oliver leans forward and presses a kiss to Felicity’s forehead and then drops lower to kiss her sweetly on the lips. 

When Oliver settles back against his chair and is no longer blocking Felicity, Barry switches to looking at her next and he is not disappointed. Felicity has the most gentle and warm glow about her as she studies the screen on which her baby is now visible to her. One hand hovers just above her stomach, as if she wants to touch and be somehow even closer to her unborn child. Her lips quirk into a tiny but powerful smile and her eyes are positively sparkling. Already, it’s glaringly obvious how deep her motherly love runs. 

A whooshing sound fills the room and Doctor Schwartz speaks up, a quiet delight in her tone. 

“And that sound is your baby’s heartbeat - which is fast, but that’s what we look for at this stage,” she explains and if possible, the tenderness in both Oliver and Felicity’s expressions intensifies. 

“Everything is looking really good. And our technician here can correct me if I’m wrong,” Doctor Schwartz glances at the tech in question, who brought the ultrasound equipment up in the first place, “but I’d guess you look to be about twelve and a half weeks along.” The tech gives a quick nod and after some quiet murmuring and clicking at the computer between, Doctor Schwartz smiles. 

“Great measurements. Everything that we can examine at this point is encouraging. Felicity, your uterus, fallopian tubes, and placenta all look normal and healthy; I don’t see anything that should cause complications. You’ll learn more at your next ultrasound - including gender, if you want to know - but from what we can see now, Baby Smoak-Queen looks good,” Doctor Schwartz smiles, looking away from the screen to smile at the pair. “Congratulations; all indications at this stage are that Mom and Baby are both healthy.” 

At this, Felicity and Oliver tear their attention away from the screen and focus on each other for a moment. 

“You’re a Mom, Felicity,” Oliver repeats with effusive joy, looking pleasantly dazed as he stares at his wife. 

“You’re a Dad, Oliver,” Felicity returns with a watery smile, guiding his hand up to her stomach to confirm this truth. For a brief moment, the little family is all connected as one. It’s a shockingly intimate scene and for a second, Barry almost feels a little guilty, as if he’s intruded on what should be a private moment. But just as quickly, the pair glance around the room at their gathered friends and they break into quiet laughter and smiles, which the hospital staff echoes with celebratory cheers. 

“Smoak-Queens, party of three!” Caitlin comments sweetly above the din and Felicity’s cheeks turn rosy as her smile widens all the more. As Doctor Schwartz gives Felicity’s stomach a final pass to survey things, she chuckles.

“You two have quite the active one in there, Felicity,” the Doctor explains, pointing out the grainy image of the Smoak-Queen fetus. And indeed, the little bean is moving around quite a bit; even as Barry watches, he can see the unborn baby shifting and wriggling its limbs animatedly. 

“I-I can’t feel that. Is that bad? S-Should I be able to feel that?” Felicity frets suddenly and Doctor Schwartz smiles and pats Felicity’s hand reassuringly. 

“It’s still a little too early for you to feel anything. And most first time mothers don’t feel anything until closer to twenty five weeks or so, so I wouldn’t worry just yet, Felicity. For now, just relax and enjoy the ride; once this little one gets out, you’re going to have your hands full.” 

There’s a moment of quiet as Felicity stares at the monitor joyously before she turns her focus back to her husband, a smug smirk on her face.

“Oh no, my hands aren’t going to be full. As I recall, _ someone _ once said he would be my arms and legs if I would be his eyes. So by my count, that means I’ll get to watch while _ Oliver _has his hands full,” Felicity teases, her eyes positively sparkling with mirth. 

“If I recall correctly, _ I _ wanted to make that deal but _ you _didn’t. And I don’t think we ever settled on terms. But I believe it was implied that I would only be your arms and legs if you didn’t get better - which you did...” Oliver trails off playfully. “So by my estimate, you aren’t off the hook but I certainly am. Nice try, Smoak.” Oliver winks at her and Felicity mock scowls at him and sticks out her tongue. 

“Well, if you aren’t going to be my arms and legs after all, I guess it’s a good thing I got better then, isn’t it?” This time she winks at him, albeit poorly, and Oliver snorts in amusement. 

“Tell me again, who exactly helped you get better?” 

“You mean aside from all these lovely folks here?” Felicity gestures to the roomful of staff with a smile before refocusing on Oliver, suddenly growing serious. “You did. Without you… Without you I don’t think I’d have recovered.” 

The silence is suddenly heavy with the weight of this confession and all eyes are on Oliver, whose expression has softened to one of utmost tenderness as he leans his head in against Felicity’s and presses a kiss to the top of her head. 

“We made each other better. _ Together. _” 


End file.
